Between Sea and Sky
by AMiserableLove
Summary: Neverland. It's a darkly magical place, nothing like the stories she'd grown up loving as a child. It's deadly, beautiful, tragic—Emma knows that rescuing Henry will be dangerous. She expects it, accepts it...is prepared for it. The one thing she's not prepared for, however, are her raging feelings and ever-changing emotions for the infuriating pirate who's vowed to help her.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm super excited to get this multi-chapter underway! Expect at least weekly updates, more if I'm feeling extra ambitious! If I slack please invade my askbox on tumblr or PM here and kick my butt. I'll allow it. Also I'm trying really hard to put myself in Emma's shoes here. While yes we all want a romance between Hook and Emma I'm trying to put things in perspective a bit, I think a slow simmer is a bit necessary. Also,if she seems slightly harsh it's because I believe she's reeling from the loss of both Neal and Henry. That has to affect a person. Right? Right.**

**Okay on with the show...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT**

**Please review**

* * *

_Neverland._

A magical world she had pictured and dreamed of countless times throughout her childhood. It was unsurprising, really, how connected she had felt to the place as a young orphaned kid. The enchanted and wonderful land where lost and forgotten children went to never grow up, to never have to face the hardships that the adult world had thrust upon them—the stories of its beauty and magic intriguing her, beckoning her in a way no other fairytale ever had.

Because what had she been growing up if not a lost little girl?

But cruelly, almost unfairly, she had learned, with the loss of her son, that it wasn't the hopeful and healing place she had dreamed of as a young girl.

Neverland...

Beautiful.

Terrifying.

Enchanting.

Dangerous.

Haunting.

Tragic.

_Deadly._

Over the past day or so, since they had been spit out on the other side of the portal, greeted with nothing but a vast blue ocean and an endlessly clear vibrantly shaded sky, Emma had overheard different conversations whispered around her in hushed and quiet tones. Regina, her mother, her father, Gold, even Hook, all of them speaking somewhat fearfully of the land which as a child she had always dreamed of someday visiting—visions of sword fighting with pirates and swimming with mermaids, keeping her awake and comforting her throughout the hard and painful nights during her time spent in the foster system.

Sighing at her internal musings, Emma shook her head slightly, the thoughts of her one-time love for the story of Peter Pan and the lost boys doing nothing to lighten her already dark mood. Stretching her sore muscles a bit, she made her way through the nearly black ship, the gentle swaying more than a little off-putting as she slowly and carefully walked, well aware that since boarding the large vessel she had yet to gain her sea-legs. And pushing on, she ignored the voice in her head that whispered maybe she should be resting rather than snooping around—the stubborn part of her pushing away the advice, intent on continuing on.

She knew she was being a bit careless. After a long and trying day of her parents arguing with Regina and Gold, Regina and Gold arguing with each other and everyone arguing with Hook—Mary Margaret and David had suggested everyone retire once the sun had set. Claiming a full night's rest would be needed—based off Hook's experiences and Gold's knowledge, Neverland would be both a tiring and harrowing journey.

But she couldn't sleep.

Not with thoughts of Henry, alone, terrified, and helpless constantly taunting her in a flurry of dark and cruel images.

Coming above deck, she crossed her arms over her chest, the warm sea air welcoming her as her boots softly padded across the Jolly Roger's wooden planks. Allowing her eyes to focus for a moment, she scanned the area before her; the dark night backdrop was breathtaking with seemingly millions of bright and glittering stars shining above her—a handful of moons glowing in faded yellows and muted blues, scattered across the cloudless sky.

Breathing in deeply, she continued to take in her surroundings, noting warily she wasn't the only one feeling restless. Both Regina and Gold stood at opposite ends of the ship, staring out into the glassy black water. With only a handful of lanterns, the light from the moons and the twinkling stars illuminating the deck, Emma could just barely make out their expressions—each of them conveying different variations of loss, concern, fear, and worry. And try as she might, she couldn't find it in herself to muster up an ounce of compassion for either of them, silently and unfairly blaming each of them for both of her respective losses.

Henry.

Neal.

Somehow, someway, they each had a hand in where she was today—the devastating position she was currently in, the fate of her son unclear as the fate of her….

Emma paused, considering Neal, memories of her desperate confession, of his sudden declaration ringing in her head. And what exactly had he been to her? _Truly and honestly been to her._ Had he been her first love, her great love? Both? Shaking her head she felt a sardonic smile twitch at her lips…she supposed it really didn't matter what she felt for him anymore…he was gone.

_Most likely dead before the portal had dropped him in whatever cursed land fate had seen fit to throw him in._

Which brought her thoughts back to Regina and Gold, her mouth dipping down into a frown as her tired brain half-heartedly tried to sympathize with them. Regina had lost Henry only minutes after trying to save the town, and Gold had lost Neal after spending years, decades, centuries trying to find him. And even with the gentle reminder circling in her head, a larger more vindictive part of her scoffed at the thought. Because whether it was a curse enacted twenty-eight years ago or a cowardly decision made over three centuries ago, both currently held fault in her tired and unreasoning mind.

Because of them she had spent most of her life unwanted, unloved, and alone.

And now...now...

Henry and Neal, the first people who's love she'd ever felt, ever truly and really felt...were gone.

And she was alone.

_Again._

Turning, she made her way towards the back of the ship, intent on putting as much distance between herself and Gold and Regina as possible. She was desperate for some time alone with her thoughts—she needed to figure out her next move, the urge to devise a plan and come up with some kind of strategy burning strong within her. She hated how helpless she felt—her knowledge of magic and fairytales limited, her experience with the different realms almost non-existent.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping lass?"

At the sound of Hook's voice Emma closed her eyes tight and sighed, not appreciating his untimely appearance while silently cursing her own poor luck. Turning slowly, knowing he wouldn't go away even if she asked nicely, she crossed her arms over her chest, watching as he leisurely made his way over to her, his movements smooth and effortlessly fluid, drawing her reluctant attention. Since they had set sail his demeanor towards her had been both surprisingly quiet and unnervingly perceptive—the combination more than a little off-putting when coming from the usually colorful and obnoxious pirate.

"Shouldn't you be steering the ship?"

At her somewhat biting tone, he smirked, the small grin failing to meet his bright and appraising eyes. "Aye…you needn't worry...the Jolly Roger is no concern of yours Swan." Casting his gaze out towards the dark waters, he considered the sea a moment, his expression grim, his body tense. And watching as a pained and faraway look crossed over his features, she nearly jumped when he spoke next, surprised by his soft and lilting voice. "You really do need your rest darling, Neverland is—"

"Not what I expect?" she cut him off quickly, feeling the hot beginnings of unwarranted anger simmering in her veins. "I get it okay? You guys have made your point. I understand. Neverland isn't what I grew up thinking it was. It's dangerous. It's terrifying, it's risky, unpredictable, horrifying, torturous, tiring…." pausing she sucked in a deep breath before leveling him with an even and unwavering glare. "Disturbingly and darkly magical…_deadly…"_ letting the last word hang meaningfully between them, she raised a brow before continuing in a softly defiant tone. "Anything else I'm missing _Captain_?"

He stared at her a moment his expression unamused, his body entirely too close for comfort. It was more than a little disturbing how much his presence always threw her, the rush of confusing feelings that raged inside of her surprising—a small fact she refused to explore any further.

"Beautiful." he said finally, almost wistfully, his voice, both low and quiet, just barely reaching her ears. "You forgot beautiful."

She held his stare for a moment unable to shake the feeling of unease as she stood with him under the twinkling Neverland sky—the sounds of the sea surrounding them, the weight of the past day, the past twenty-nine fucking years heavy on her shoulders. Casting her eyes towards the water she heaved a quiet sigh, the need to be by herself left with only her thoughts and misery nearly overwhelming her.

"Listen, I need—can...can you just leave. I don't feel like talking, I'm tired and…I'd like to be alone." When he said nothing, silence hanging heavy between them, she turned her gaze back towards him, locking her eyes with his in a somewhat stubborn and challenging stare. "_Please._"

Something odd flashed across his dark features at her request, his bright blue eyes dimmed fractionally as his mouth tightened into a grim line. And as they stood in the silent night, staring at each other, Emma fought not to look away, unwilling to give him the upper hand, even as her heart raced uncomfortably and her mind swirled with tumultuous thoughts—a mixture of appreciation, gratitude, anger, and despair coursing through her for the man who had left her only to come back for her when she needed him most.

And quickly she pushed the thought from her head, unsure where it had come from.

_Them._

He had come back for them…to help _them_…not just her.

"Enjoy the night Emma, we should be closing in on Neverland's shores by dusk tomorrow."

She snapped her drifting eyes to his at the casually said statement, the realization that they'd be that much closer to finding Henry weighing heavily upon her. "How—how are you even certain….how can you tell?"

He grinned at that, the smile still not reaching his eyes. "Pirate."

"Right."

"Sleep soon…you'll need it."

And without another word he left her, leaving her to the quiet night—both anger and gratitude towards him still warring within her as she watched him walk away, the black night blanketing him until eventually he disappeared into the surrounding darkness.

* * *

"It's hotter than I had expected it to be here."

Leaning over the railing, Emma glanced over at Mary Margaret, her mother was fidgeting; wringing her hands together while shifting back and forth on her feet. Her delicate features were pinched tight and her gaze was far away on the glassy and brilliantly blue water. The wind ruffled through her short dark locks, tossing the black cap of hair carelessly about as she blankly stared out into the ocean—her teeth worrying her lower lip, her eyes shadowed with clear and obvious grief. Nodding absently, Emma continued to study her; her burning stare absorbing the smaller woman's odd and nervous movements as she continued to bounce and twitch in front of her.

Almost as if feeling her attention on her, Mary Margaret shifted her focus back to Emma, her gaze immediately softening from distant and anxious to gently concerned as her blue eyes roamed over her face, searching Emma's coolly impassive expression.

"I don't know what I expected, I never really gave much thought to Neverland," she continued, hurriedly rambling while gesturing somewhat wildly in front of her. "It's...it's just hot."

"Technically we're not in Neverland yet." Emma murmured finally as her mother continued to stare at her, searching her face with knowing eyes. Casting her gaze out in the direction Mary Margaret had been staring, she squinted against the bright and nearly blinding sun before sighing softly—she was getting restless. Hook had said they should reach land within the day, but even with his confident assurances she was still becoming impatient—dark images of Henry and the dangers of the land they sought continued to bombard her without rest, leaving her edgy and irritable. She had barely slept the night before, her sleep restless and interrupted as panic had consumed her, her anxiety rising and falling in odd and rapid patterns.

"We may not have reached its shores but we're in its seas."

At the high-pitched, slightly wavering voice, Emma glanced back at her mother, staring hard at the petite woman. Curious where the warrior like confidence from the Enchanted Forest had disappeared to, she sighed again—this tiny fidgeting person was bound to get on her nerves.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're acting weird..._funny._..what's wrong with you?" Too tired to sugarcoat her words, not really caring about her feelings, Emma phrased the question bluntly, her eyes narrowing as Mary Margaret opened her mouth to most likely brush off the question. And apparently seeing Emma's harsh look, she looked down at the ground a shuddering breath escaping her lips as her face fell slightly.

"I'm just worried Emma. I'm just...I'm just tired."

"Tired?"

"I just want my family back. We've been fighting for so long..._for too long_. And I'm tired. I just want everyone safe, happy, together, I just—"

"Stop."

Mary Margaret looked up quickly, her surprised gaze quickly finding Emma's hard and unyielding one. "Excuse me?"

"Just stop." And seeing the question in her mother's eyes Emma looked away. "My entire life I've fought. My entire life I've had to survive just to get by...just to stay alive, just to continue to _exist_. And for what? To save an entire kingdom? To become something I'm not...not prepared for? Something I'm not even sure I want? So yeah I'm tired too. But now's not the time to start feeling sorry for ourselves. My son is out there." she paused bringing her focus back to Mary Margaret, noticing the way her eyes had widened considerably. "_Henry_ is out there. So no we're not going to feel sorry for ourselves, we're not going to think about the past, about how hard and fucked up our lives are. We're going to focus on Henry...on getting him back." Swallowing, feeling a lump form in her throat as anger and sadness clashed inside of her, she pushed away from the railing, needing space, needing to once again be alone. Because that's what she was...a loner. She'd always been one. And she'd most likely always be one. "We're going to focus on that right now because that's all I can give...because we can't afford to focus on anything else."

And walking away, she ignored Mary Margaret's soft attempts at calling her back, pushing away the voice in her head that quietly chastised her for being unnecessarily harsh to the woman who's pain nearly matched her own.

She didn't care.

She couldn't care.

_Henry. _

He was all that mattered. He was her one and only concern.

Absently rubbing her hands up and down her bare arms—the sun too hot for the heavy layers she had boarded with she currently donned only a simple tank top and jeans—she scanned the nearly empty ship. Gold and Regina had last been seen pouring over some old and enchanted maps while David had, surprisingly enough, been at the helm with Hook not too long ago, the two of them speaking in hushed nearly conspiring tones. Continuing to walk around the deck, with no exact destination in mind, she suddenly felt unbearably caged and restless—the seemingly never-ending sea slowly deflating her hopes of reaching Henry soon. And blinking back the sudden threat of tears that pricked at her eyes as a quick wave of dread swept over her fast, taking her by surprise, she silently cursed herself for letting her emotions sneak up on her so swiftly. Gritting her teeth, she took in a deep breath, refusing to allow herself to crumble so easily.

"There you are darling."

Tensing at his voice, she swore softly, he was the last person she wanted to see, and yet, somehow, he kept showing up when she least wanted him to.

When she least expected it.

Turning around she raised a brow as he came towards her slowly. He had shed himself of his large coat, and were it not for the sword he held in his hand, the lack of the dark and oversized leather garment would have made him appear softer, more approachable. "Do you ever actually captain the ship? I'm starting to wonder if you have us just floating out here aimlessly. Maybe keeping us away from Neverland is part of some bigger plan of yours."

The smile he shot her was cool and calculating, his eyes appraising and neutral. "I told you last night Swan, don't you fret about my ship. Rest assured, she knows what she's doing."

At his words, she narrowed her gaze, staring at him hard. _Magic. _And rolling her eyes towards the cerulean sky she shook her head. "What do you want Hook?"

"We're approaching Neverland fast."

"So you keep saying."

Ignoring the blatant question in her tone, he stepped forward again, raising the sword he held and gaining her attention once more. "I've given you space over the past day or so because you needed it. And while I realize a mere day isn't long enough to properly grieve…" his voice faltered a bit, and pausing he breathed in deeply. "to properly grieve the loss of your…"

"Can we please not go there?" She cut him off fast, a hot and uncomfortable feeling rippling down her spine as he skirted around the subject of Neal. She wasn't entirely sure what Hook's relationship with him had been, but it was clearly an odd topic for the both of them. Throwing awkwardness to the ever-growing list of confusing emotions that swirled between them was something she wasn't willing to do anytime soon.

"Very well." he agreed tightly with a quick and stiff nod. "my purpose in seeking you out…" he trailed off again, slight regret flashing in his eyes. "Swan you need to prepare yourself for the perils of Neverland."

"You're kidding me right? _This_ again?" she sighed, more than a little annoyed, and turning from, him began to walk away. "I've honestly had enough of you and everyone else talking about how dark and dangerous this place is…we went over this last night Hook…it's been made abundantly clear. And I'm tired of it…everyone needs to focus—"

"You're a lousy swordsman Swan."

As his voice bellowed after her she stopped, halting in her retreat, and taking a moment to process his words, turned around slowly leveling him with a glare as annoyance ran through her fast.

"Your footwork needs improvement, your grip is appalling, and—"

"And I beat you. I kicked your ass and knocked you out cold."

Apparently seeing he had her attention he smiled thinly at her, coming towards her again, his stride confident and full of purpose. "No darling I let you win."

"Bull-shit."

His claim struck a chord with her, and whether it was because she sensed the truth in his words, or disliked the implication that anyone _let_ her do anything, her irritation flared. Letting out a humorless laugh, she placed her hands on her hips, watching as he took a few more steps before stopping in front of her. And lifting the sword meaningfully, the sliver reflecting the sun and causing the sharp metal to glint threateningly, he kept quiet as he waited for her to speak once again.

"Is this some ego thing? You want to go again so that you can prove you didn't get beat by a girl _Captain_." She made a move to walk past him, narrowing her eyes when he stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. "I don't have time to stroke your ego pal."

The smile he shot her was cruel, the devastating pirate-like grin taking her by surprise. "You can stroke whatever you please darling, but rest assured, my ego is something that needs no tending."

The words hung between them, devoid of emotion and dripping with blatant innuendos.

Her mouth dropping open for a moment, she stared at him blankly, her cheeks flushing hot as his eyes held hers. And then, shaking herself, embarrassed by his behavior and her flustered reaction, she went to brush past him again, tightening her hands into fists, when he merely stepped in front of her without hesitation.

"Move!" She practically shouted the demand at him, her cheeks still flaming, her heart, for reasons unknown to her, pounding uncomfortably against her chest.

"From what I've gathered you don't know how to use your bloody magic properly and your skills with a blade need some vast improvement. If we're to go up against the lost ones and the beasts that roam Neverland freely you need to be better prepared. You will practice Swan. You won't put the rest of us at risk because you are a bloody stubborn and foolish woman. So help me I will—"

"Will what?" her answering laugh was nearly hysterical as she stepped closer to him, pleased when a wary look crossed his dark features. "I don't owe you a thing, I don't owe anyone on this ship a goddamned thing_. _Do you understand? Nothing!"

"You're angry." he said the words softly, almost acceptingly, his blue eyes seeking hers, the understanding she saw there taking her by surprise.

"I'm a lot of things right now Hook, angry is only one of them." Stepping back from him again, she reached behind her and pulling out the gun she had hidden beneath her shirt, she flashed him a flat smile. "I don't need a sword when I have—"

"That? Ahhhh darling, pray tell, how well did that precious weapon suit you in the Enchanted Forest?" Not waiting for her to answer his eyes drifted towards the gun, studying it with unmasked contempt, a slight sneer crossed his features. "Keep it my dear. We may need it in a particularly desperate situation, but by no means will that be your weapon of choice." Holding up his hooked hand, he waved away the livid protest that had bubbled up in her throat, threatening to spill over. "The moment you use that, it's blast will attract every native, beast, and enemy lurking in the shadows, like a beacon, calling them to us easily. The moment you use that you'll draw unwanted and unnecessary attention. The moment you use that my dear, you risk everyone's life...your son's included. Put it away."

She faltered at his words, his voice had taken on an authoritative and commanding tone, insisting he be heard, demanding she listen. And she hated him at that moment. Hated him with a violent passion for his smug and superior tone, hated him for the idiotic choices he had made, hated him for bringing Henry into the conversation

But most of all she hated him because he was right.

Staring down at the heavy weapon in her hand, Emma considered it hard, remembering how it had attracted the ogres in the Enchanted Forest, nearly killing them in the process. And tucking it back behind her once again, she shrugged her shoulders, her face flushing hot with both anger and humility as she met his stare once more.

"I'll go find David."

"Ahhhh yes the prince."

"He's just as good if not better with a sword."

At her words Hook's lips pursed before he took another step in her direction. And leaning forward, coming uncomfortably close to her, he spoke softly in a low and deep voice, "that may be so lass…but I don't have the time nor the patience to watch father and daughter bond over lessons. You need someone who will push you, who will have your defenses up and your senses aware. Do you trust him?

"What?"

"With your life, do you trust him…your father?"

"Yes." Her reply came fast; she blurted the answer out unthinkingly.

"And me? Do you trust me?"

Emma hesitated, considering his softly spoken words. Did she trust him? When she took the time to pause for a moment, to really think about the question, to block out her anger, her crazy and turbulent emotions and carefully weigh her answer she found herself coming up torn. Part of her wanted to trust him, part of her longed to believe in him. But another part of her quietly cautioned her, reminding her where his loyalties had previously laid.

"I don't know." she whispered, her voice tinged with defeat.

"Good." he spoke the word softly, his tone just barely audible. And straightening slightly, a grim smile crossed his features as he picked up a lock of her hair with his hook, his eyes flashing with something unreadable when she pulled back quickly, slapping his arm away. "You need to be on your toes with me. I'll not go easy on you Emma, I'll not be soft and nurturing…I'll force you to use your wits and your cunning. When you fight me you'll fear for your life." Stepping even closer, she felt the warmth of his body consume her as the hot and unique scent of him enveloped her slowly. "With me you'll never know if my blade will stop just before it pierces that soft and delicate skin of yours or if I'll merely just run you through,…just as you will never know the outcome as you fight and struggle for your life when we finally set foot on Neverland's shores. You need me to teach you."

"No."

"A rash decision love."

She looked away from him, her eyes shooting to the sparkling water, her body still tense from both his nearness and dark words. Her skin hummed with a mixture of anticipation and terror as she considered what he had said. And she warred with herself internally, knowing that she was close to giving in.

A dull and telling silence lingered between them, and she closed her eyes, acceptance sinking in.

She needed his help. If she wanted to be prepared for whatever faced them, if she wanted to ensure Henry's safe return, she needed his help._ She needed him._ Her shoulders drooping fractionally, she bit her lip resigned.

"You're angry with me," he broke the silence, drawing her focus once again. "More so than before…and that's good. Use that emotion when we duel." And closing the rest of the small distance between them, he lifted her wrist with his hook, drawing her hand to the sword he held. "Grip it tight Swan." Leaning closer, so that his breath was hot in her ear, she could hear the smile in his voice. "Good girl…don't be gentle."

"You're a disgusting pig." she hissed at him, ripping the sword from him angrily, she stalked away fast, her breathing uneven as she put some much needed space between them.

"And you're easy to rile up." He shot back, unsheathing his sword from his belt, he smirked at her knowingly. "You think when a lost one comes at you swinging a dagger, you'll be the calm and cool sheriff from your pitiful little town? No my dear. You'll be seeing red, desperate to do anything and everything to get your son back. You're emotions will be raging and you'll be fighting your conscious...warring with your blasted feelings as a child comes at with the intent to kill!"

Shuddering involuntarily, she opened her mouth, his words bringing a sinking feeling to her gut and a tight frown to her lips, and just as she was about to answer, to shoot back a smart retort she noticed him move fast, raising his sword and coming at her quickly. Her eyes widening she brought her own sword up fast, blocking his blow as their blades clashed together, the sound ringing out and carrying heavily in the light wind that whipped around them, rustling her hair and billowing out his loose shirt.

"What the hell?"

"Be on your guard darling, your attackers are devious and cunning. You won't see them coming."

And with the advice he swung at her again, shouting at her to mind her feet and tighten her grip when her hands wavered and faltered with each hit she endured. Swallowing and bristling under the commands, she raised her weapon to block another blow, her eyes widening as the sharp steel of his sword suddenly grazed her neck, causing her to pause in her actions.

"Dead." He murmured darkly, his voice low and soft as their eyes held each other silently over the shining silver of his weapon.

And before she could comment, he kicked a leg out, catching her square in the stomach and pushing her backwards, causing her to stumble, tripping over her feet, she fell to the ground. Humiliation brought hot color to her cheeks as she whipped her head up, glaring at him, her throat tightened painfully—she hated herself for suddenly feeling like crying.

She hated him.

"Get up Swan. Your opponent won't wait for you to gather your bearings."

Blowing out a breath, Emma struggled to her feet, her stomach ached from the kick, and she cursed at him under her breath, knowing her skin would be bruised from the harsh blow. And just as she got to her feet, gaining her balance, ruthlessly he came at her again. Catching her by surprise she was unable to get her sword up in time; the sharp point of his blade just barely stopping before it pierced through her chest.

"Dead again." He said, his eyes drifting to where she held her sword tensely at her side, her knuckles going white with her tight and firm grip. "You should be raising your weapon, prepared to fight as you're getting back on your feet."

Emma narrowed her eyes, her gaze flitting down to where his sword still hovered near her heart—her annoyance at him spiking as he stared down at her smugly, tauntingly. Suddenly a rush of emotions hit her fast—suddenly she found herself unable to contain her anger any longer. He had left them. He had taken the goddamned bean and had left him. He had worked with Cora and Tamara and Greg. He was always getting in her way, he was always there…

He was always coming back.

She hated him.

_God how she wanted to hate him._

Bringing her sword up she knocked his away and raising the blade she barely suppressed a wince as the loud clank of steel against steel screeched and echoed around them as he blocked her sudden and unforgiving blow. Quickly they resumed their battle. Eyes narrowed, chests heaving, curses flying, they fought each other fiercely. As the intensity of the fight picked up, quickly she realized she wasn't the only one suppressing her anger. His eyes flashed each time their blades crossed; his face had taken on a dark and shadowed look.

With each hit, with each block and blow he became more tense, his expression more impassioned, his brilliant blue eyes burning vibrantly with pulsing emotion.

He was livid.

He came at her strong, and as she just barely blocked the blow to her head, she felt fear lurch in her heart, unsure whether he had been aware of the near fatal strike he had almost thrust upon her—his eyes were so wild, his movements so calculated.

"You're letting your emotions run you!" he shouted, his tone frustrated as he stepped back from her. Shaking his head, disgust crossed his features as he leveled her with a condescending glare.

"You said you wanted me to use my emotions!" she yelled back, only slightly concerned about drawing the others attention, she watched Hook warily as they circled each other menacingly.

"You're letting your feelings override your reasoning…you're thinking too bloody much!"

"I'm letting my emotions…" she trailed off in a sardonic laugh, earning a narrowed glare from him as they both raised their weapons again. "_Okay._ You're one to talk."

"Am I?"

"You're angry."

"As are you pet."

"You're angry with _me_.

"And aren't you angry with me love?"

She didn't answer, instead she swung at him, reveling in the feel of the clash and bang, the way the collision of their swords caused her whole body to vibrate. The need to beat him burning in her veins, they resumed their fighting once again. She paid attention to her feet and her grip, ignoring her pride when he barked out a command or two—instead of yelling back, as she itched to do, she listened to him heeding his advice. Her movements became less stinted, easier, and more fluid, and she watched him carefully, dimly noting when something that closely resembled respect crossed his features slowly.

He was looking at her as an equal.

And just as she felt her feelings start to shift, as the reluctant beginnings of admiration and respect for him began to creep up on her unwillingly, a small voice in her head whispered to her harshly, reminding her of his partnership with Tamara.

Tamara had killed Neal.

Tamara had taken Henry.

And almost violently she snapped.

Swinging at him hard she took him by surprise, watching with some satisfaction as he stumbled backwards, nearly losing his balance. Raising an eyebrow, he recovered fast and began circling her again, his eyes never leaving hers as their swords kept each other at bay.

"Tell me why you're angry Emma."

"No."

"You're getting sloppy. Tell me what has suddenly gotten under your skin."

"No!"

She shouted it at him, feeling the beginnings of a scream work its way up her throat as she thought about him helping them, helping Tamara and Greg, helping Cora—always out for himself, never putting anyone else first. Even now she was unsure about his agenda. And as her thoughts drifted she was brutally jarred back to reality when he nearly sliced off her nose, causing her to flinch out of the way fast.

"Tell me."

Raising her sword she swung hard again, gritting her teeth as he easily blocked the blow. "You were working with them." And as she said the words something inside of her broke, her anger overflowing, her distress that he had been a part of Tamara and Greg's plan consuming her. "You were working with them! You helped them! You son of a bitch! You were helping them!"

She watched as something odd crossed his features, something almost pained and broken, before he collected himself quickly and spinning fast he began to fight her again. His footwork intricate, his movements more involved, his actions distracted her for a moment—she was just barely able block blow after blow as he continued to take her by surprise with his skill, showing her just how much he'd been holding back as he swung at her hard again and again. Quickly, almost effortlessly he drew her sword to his, and much like when they had fought in the Enchanted Forest he made a quick circular motion with his wrist, her sword flying from her grasp with the momentum and skidding across the wooden planks of the ship, leaving her defenseless. And before she could react, before she could even think, he had her pinned up against the railing, his body pressed against hers as his sword dug threateningly into the skin of her neck. Feeling a prick, she flinched when a thin line of blood trickled down her throat.

"Dead." He whispered softly, his eyes boring into hers.

"Let me go."

"I was working with them because you abandoned me darling…again."

"Go to hell Hook."

Smiling darkly down at her, he eased up on his sword, still keeping her trapped against the railing he continued to stare at her hard. "You're making a bloody habit of it Swan. Time and time again you've left me. First on the beanstalk after I had given you my word! After I had promised you my loyalties…"

"Get off of me."

He ignored her, instead pushing into her more, his breath hot on her face, his nose mere inches away from hers. "And then after I came to your world on my own…"

"You teamed up with Cora…"

"I was injured…"

"You got hit by a car after you shot Belle."

"And you left with him! You left with the crocodile, leaving me without my hook without my sodding pride…

"I left to save you, you stupid, stupid bastard!"

She screamed the words harshly at him, his body tensing with the statement as it resonated between them. Her heart was racing and her head felt slightly fuzzy—she couldn't think with his body pressed so tightly to hers. And she tried to tell herself it was disgust and anger that had her skin tingling as her breathing came out shallow and uneven. She tried, but a voice in her head couldn't help but point out that she was failing miserably.

"Let me go."

"What—what are you saying."

"It doesn't matter…let me go."

Instead of releasing her, he dug his sword further into her skin, his eyes unblinking as she flinched at the threatening contact. "Tell me." He murmured the words slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, she could see his own anger still simmering in the depths of his blue stare.

"He would have killed you if I hadn't gone with him. He needed my help to find…" she paused her throat tightening slightly. "He needed my help finding Neal…he threatened to kill you if I didn't help okay? Now get the hell off me."

Surprise registered briefly in his eyes, his face dropped slightly as his grip on his sword faltered heavily. And using it to her advantage she pushed at him hard, moving past him when he stumbled away from her without fight. Walking away fast she just barely heard his question, softly spoken at her back.

"Why would you do that?"

Stopping for a moment she closed her eyes, her breathing still heavy, her heart in her throat, she tried to calm herself—attempting to steady her racing thoughts and furiously beating pulse.

"Because it was the right thing to do." she said quietly, without turning around.

And unsure if he heard her, unwilling to stick around to see what else he had to say, she continued to walk away, ignoring the feeling that pulled tightly in her gut, while pushing away the voice in her head that softly told her in quiet and sympathetic tones, that doing the right thing hadn't been the only reason she had decided to save his life the day Gold had threatened it.

It was the same reason she had felt compelled to ensure his safety on the beanstalk, the same reason she had needed to hide him after the incident with Belle.

There was a connection between them.

A familiarity.

He was just as lost and broken as she was.

And it was something, that even now, after the betrayals, the harsh words, and telling actions, she found herself wishing to fiercely deny. But in truth it was only something that, with each passing day, with each heated encounter and infuriating interaction, was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid.

And she wanted to hate him for it.

She wanted to hate him with every fiber of her being because hating him would make things simpler and less messy.

But, slowly, finally, she was beginning to accept that no matter how many times she thought it, no matter how many times she said it, there was something inside of her that refused to believe it.

She wanted to hate him.

But she couldn't.

Casting a look back, she saw that he was still staring after her. Their gazes met, and in that brief moment she felt something spark in the air, traveling between them and hitting her square in the chest. Startled, she jumped slightly, unsure whether she had actually felt the odd jolt or had imagined it, and shaking her head she broke away from his stare.

_Henry._

She had to focus on Henry.

Walking back in the direction she had left Mary Margaret, intent on apologizing to her for her previously harsh words, she shot her gaze out to the sea—her eyes widening slowly, as she saw, off in the distance, a foggy shape just over the horizon. And looking behind her quickly she watched as Hook made his way back to the helm, his movements fast and hurried, the atmosphere suddenly charged and formidable.

Bringing her attention back over to the water, she swallowed over the lump in her throat as the shape began to take form slowly. And bringing a hand to her chest, over her fast beating heart, she felt her entire body shake as hope and fear collided together inside of her.

"Neverland." she whispered softly.

* * *

Review?!


	2. Chapter 2

**_THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR AMAZING REVIEWS! I AM HONESTLY BLOWN AWAY BY THE RESPONSE THIS FIC HAS GOTTEN. I SERIOUSLY LOVE YOU ALL AND WANT TO GIVE YOU EACH A GREAT BIG HUG!  
_**

**__****_Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT._**

* * *

Neverland.

They had made it.

With the ship docked and the land within their grasp, they were that much closer to finding Henry.

_Finally_.

Coming above deck, Emma pulled her hair back into a low ponytail; securing it tightly with a thin leather strap she had found lying around in the crew's quarters. Her eyes scanning the area before her, impatiently she sought the others out. She was more than a little anxious to begin their search for her kid—something she was sure the rest of them wouldn't fault her for, if anything she was fairly certain they were all just as eager as she was to finally make some significant progress.

Her thoughts drifting aimlessly as the cool evening breeze hit her skin, she braced herself when a series of rough waves angrily lapped at the sides of the ship, causing her hands to shoot out in front of her as her footing slipped slightly. Steadying herself, she waited for the rocking to subside and inhaling deeply, gathered her bearings before continuing on—the thick smell of salt in the air never ceasing to take her by surprise. Her stride brisk, her hands clenched into tight fists, adrenaline raced through her body fast as she prepared herself to finally get off the Jolly Roger—her need to be as far away from the pirate ship as possible something she blamed solely on her desire to find her son, pushing away thoughts of Hook as they stubbornly tried to creep into her mind.

_Henry._

_Neverland._

Redirecting her thoughts, she glanced up at the lush land that sprawled out before her, a sliver of fear crawling up her spine as warnings of its dark beauty once again echoed in her brain—the ominous words hard to believe as she took in the sight of its nearly breathtaking scenery. It was all greens and blues, with shades of purple, orange, and pink scattered throughout it—the vibrant colors tempting one to come closer and explore its hidden wonders.

_"You forgot beautiful." _

Hook's words from the night before rang true in her head as her eyes continued to absorb the sight before her—a deep almost shocking yearning settling low inside of her as she continued to stare in awe. Silently debating on whether or not to head towards the back of the ship, curious where everyone was, she paused when she heard soft voices carrying over the gentle wind and tearing her gaze away from the landscape, her eyes landed near the helm. More than slightly surprised by what she saw, she felt a knot begin to grow inside her stomach as she took in the sight of her parents, Regina, Gold, and Hook; their faces grim, everyone's attention was focused on the Captain who stood at the wheel—speaking carefully in a soft but firm tone. Picking up her pace, Emma strained her ears as she approached them, struggling to hear what was being said to the group—wondering what possibly could have captured their unwavering and complete attention.

"Keep in mind the more exotic and beautiful something looks the more likely it is that it's dangerous…deadly even…"

Making her way towards them, she pushed past Gold and her mother without thought, watching as Hook faltered slightly, his voice trailing off as his burning gaze met hers without hesitation. Almost unthinkingly she raised a stiff hand to her throat, her fingers dusting the tiny mark he had left there when he had nicked her during their swordfight. And as images of their battle, their screaming words and heated revelations, flashed in front of her fast, she closed her eyes, breathing in deeply while breaking away from his heated stare.

There was a brief moment of heavy and telling silence before he continued once again. "But there's also much that the land has to offer."

Feeling steadier, she opened her eyes, glancing around at the faces of those gathered—their expressions rapt with focus as they drank the pirate's dire words in.

"There was a time, long ago when Neverland wasn't so dark. For nearly every danger that hides within its shadows there is a remedy for its evil…one just has to know where to look."

He paused then, whether it was because he was simply done speaking or because he was letting the information sink in she was uncertain, but unwilling to wait patiently for him to continue, Emma stepped forward suddenly. "That's where you come in." she said, merely raising a brow when he gave her a slow and lazy look, his expression impassive, his attention once again focused solely on her. "That's where you come in." she repeated softly, her tone unabashedly earnest. "Everything that's dangerous, everything that's safe…you'll show us."

He waited a heartbeat or two, his lips twitching slightly into a humorless and faintly dark smirk, "I'll do what I can _princess." _

His new nickname for her spoken in a cool and even tone, followed by the cold and appraising stare he shot her, had her bristling slightly. But unwilling to allow him to see her falter, she merely crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her gaze as she refused to break away from his all too knowing eyes. "You'll have to do better than that _Captain_...we're—we're counting on you."

_I'm counting on you._

She didn't say it, she didn't have to—it was there in the desperation that lurked in her voice, it was in the intensity of her stare. She needed him dammit. It wasn't something she could admit to freely; it wasn't something she could bear to say out loud.

But regardless of how she phrased the words, what she said and what she didn't say, it didn't change the fact that_ she _needed him.

Somehow, someway, he had become her hope.

It was more than a little disturbing.

"We need you to be more than our guide, we need you to teach us everything you know about Neverland…show us, tell us.._.everything_."

She would beg if she had to. After their swordfight, after Neverland had come into view, she had realized just how desperate she was to get her son back.

She'd do anything.

Holding her stare for a moment, he cocked his head to the side before nodding once—something about the way he looked at her telling her just how clearly he was able to read her. "As you wish." He murmured softly. And glancing out over the water, his eyes fell on the land they spoke of. He considered it a long moment before looking back at them, a dark resolve glimmering in his blue gaze. "The Piccaninny tribe knows Neverland better than even myself. They have eyes and ears all over its hills, deep within its forests, and on the edges of its seas. If Henry is here they'll know about it. My suggestion is that we seek them out first."

"And what will our reception be? Is the tribe friendly and welcoming or is it as dangerous and deadly as everything else you have so graciously warned us of."

The question came from Regina, her cool and slightly calculating voice holding heavy amounts of both inquiry and sarcasm laced within it.

"Well, I suppose we shall see when we seek them out tomorrow _your majesty_."

His equally cool answer caught Emma's interest, and whipping her head in his direction she arched an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?" her eyes drifted from Hook to Regina, noticing how both went slightly rigid with her softly spoken question. And seeing their reactions, quickly, nearly frantically, she sought her parents out, attempting to push away the sick feeling that was washing over her fast. _"Tomorrow?"_

The beginnings of hysteria slowly sneaking into her tone, she watched as David stepped forward hesitantly. His expression tight with concern, he nodded at her apologetically before speaking carefully in a calm and composed voice. "We thought it would be best if we start fresh tomorrow. Night's almost here and based off what we've heard it would be smart to get some decent sleep before making our move early in the morning."

_Tomorrow._

_Morning._

_Tomorrow._

_Henry._

_Tomorrow._

_No._

"No!" she sputtered the word, shaking her head fiercely, unwilling to even think about considering what he was saying. "We leave _tonight_."

Watching as Hook stepped back from the group, clearly willing to just go ahead and allow them to argue it out between themselves, she narrowed her eyes as he looked away from her, a slice of betrayal cutting her fast. For reasons unknown to her she had unthinkingly expected him to back her up, a small part of her automatically assuming he would without question take her side—a revelation that had a voice in her head whispering questions she was more than a little reluctant to think about. Bringing her focus back to her parents she looked at her mother, her eyes frantically holding and searching hers for answers. But before she could open her mouth to plead her case Mary Margaret beat her to it, speaking fast, her voice firm and clear.

"Emma we're all tired…we're drained. While you were below deck we decided that waiting another day was the right thing to do…for everyone's safety." pausing she stepped forward, hurt flashing across her features as Emma took a step back. "We're trying to do what's best for everyone. I know how hard this must be for you, I know how desperate you feel but it's the right decision."

"No. No it's not. Just—no! This is insane. We're _not_ waiting another day! We can't!"

Her whole body was shaking, vibrating with anger and disbelief as she stared at the group of people gathered before her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing; she couldn't believe what they were asking of her…she couldn't stand to look at any of them. Staring down at the wooden planks of the ship, she swore under her breath—the curse violent and livid. A sinking feeling was beginning to weigh heavily in her gut as her mind frantically tried to wrap itself around what they had suggested, her heart breaking slowly as thoughts of Henry lost somewhere in the land that lay before her began to torment her once again.

"Emma." her mother started carefully, "the sun will be setting soon. We'll wash up, gather some supplies and head out at first light tomorrow…based off Gold's knowledge and Hook's experiences…"

"_Them_?" she laughed, her brows rising high on her forehead as she whipped her gaze back to Mary Margaret and shooting her a withering glare, she shook her head as a humorless smile spread across her lips. "Seriously? We're going to base everything off of what a revenge-minded _pirate_ and Rumpelstiltskin think?"

She didn't even bother to glance at the pair, knowing Hook's unimpressed expression and Gold's dark and flat look would only infuriate her further.

"Emma." Her mother's soft and pained voice had her clenching her jaw tightly, her lips trembling ever so slightly.

With angry tears pricking at her eyes, she turned from the group—the feeling of hope being so tauntingly dangled in front of her as they had docked the ship, only to be cruelly ripped away, nearly too much to handle. Glancing out at the thriving green hills of Neverland, watching as a handful of colorful and screeching birds dashed across the flawlessly clear blue sky, she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, darting her tongue out to catch the light trickle of blood she had unintentionally drawn. And concentrating on the metallic taste, she looked back at the group—their expressions ranged from understanding, wariness, sorrow, anger, and compassion, none of them mirroring the panic and betrayal she felt coursing through her fast as reality slowly set in.

Drawing her attention to Regina, she held her eye, "You—you can't agree with this." she spoke in a low voice, her tone pleadingly imploring her with each softly spoken word—but desperate for an ally, she paid no mind to how weak she sounded, needing for someone, anyone to see reason. "He's out there, terrified and alone. You can't agree with this."

Looking past Emma's shoulder to the land that towered behind her, Regina smiled sadly, her eyes far away. "We need to gather some supplies…nearly everything that lurks in Neverland's forest is capable of killing you if you don't have the right antidote. Hook knows which plants we need if and _when_ we run into a situation where we'll need them. We can't be distracted with worrying about our own safety while trying to find Henry." She brought her attention back to Emma, her dark gaze suddenly fierce. "We need to make sure we're able to face whatever awaits us Miss Swan. It would be unwise to rush into unknown terrain only to get ourselves killed because of poor planning. How would that benefit Henry? We need to prepare ourselves, if that means waiting another night to ensure everything is done right, then I'm willing to do that." Slowly, gradually, her expression softened somewhat; her eyes shining with unshed tears. "The globe isn't working properly. The magic here is throwing it off. Mr. Gold and myself are still trying to figure out why that is. So right now we're left without anything but a one-handed pirate to guide us to Henry. The idea of setting out with only a couple of hours of daylight left is ridiculous and foolish. The ship's been cloaked…if our magic holds then we're somewhat safe for another night. I'm sorry but—"

Emma raised a hand cutting her off, "Bullshit," ignoring the former mayor's narrowed gaze she shook her head. "Everything you said is complete bullshit and you know it. Resting and planning is all well and good for _us_…but while we're all nice and warm and _safe _for one more night what about Henry?" she paused letting the words sink it. "Henry's not safe…"

"Emma you don't know that." It was David who spoke up, his voice still calm, his determined and unwavering eyes sought hers.

"The hell I don't!" She turned her attention on him, her eyes flashing and her body tensing. "The minute_ they_ took him he was put in danger. And now he's here in this…_this place…_this death-trap…and I'm expected to wait one more night before we even try to find him! Because what? You people want to go gather fruit and special weeds with healing powers?" She shrugged her shoulders helplessly; and raising a shaky hand to her head, she ran her trembling fingers through her tangled hair. "I can't. I can't wait."

"That's not your decision to make Miss Swan."

Whipping her gaze towards Gold, she clenched her jaw as her livid stare fell on him—he was standing further away from the rest of the group his expression emotionless and his eyes unyielding. "You're a rash and passionate woman when it comes to the people you love Miss Swan, while your suggestions are listened to, appreciated even, we will not center our entire trip around your _impulses_."

Not caring for his tone, she went to take a step towards him, dimly noting how both David and Hook tensed with the action. "He's my son."

"Which is exactly why you need to let the rest of us help you. Like I alluded to before, you're impulsive…while you may truly have your son's best interests at heart, it will do us and him no good to die before we can save him."

"You can't be killed." She whispered quietly, as if it made a difference.

"Neverland's magic is different than any world I've ever known…I haven't a clue what can and cannot happen here…and I'm certainly not willing to find out. I've made many mistakes in my life. After Baelfire's death…letting my grandson die…" he stopped, blinking somewhat rapidly before taking a slow step forward, leaning heavily on his cane. "I'm not going to let that happen. I promised I'd help you…we all did. But you must listen to reason...in order for us to help you have to _let_ us."

Swallowing thickly, she took one step back and then another, shaking her head fast as a trembling frown tugged at her lips. "This is crap." She said softly, her gaze flitting to each one of them, fiercely and silently pleading with them one last time.

_Henry._

As an image of her kid's innocent face danced in front of her tauntingly, his lopsided smile haunting her, she felt a slight dampness in her eyes and a deep burning in her throat, and biting her lip she blew out a shaky breath, one that threatened to turn into an anguished sob. Briefly she considered fighting them, for a moment she debated on screaming at them, threatening them…_anything_. But just as she was welcoming the thought, quite suddenly she found herself caught in Hook's unyielding stare—his knowing and understanding eyes were telling her more than a few simply said words and abruptly spoken suggestions had so effortlessly failed in doing.

Silently, calmly, he was imploring her to heed the others advice.

Defiantly she held his stare, the sight of him wavering in front of her as her vision glimmered with unshed tears. Until finally, unable to stand the deafening silence that had fallen over the ship any longer, defeated, she turned from them. And without another word she walked away, wiping furiously at the single tear…_the only tear_…that managed to escape her eye, only dully noting with a deep frown when the murmured conversation picked up behind her once again.

* * *

One more day...

They were going to wait_ one more day _before searching for him.

One more fucking day.

She felt sick.

Helpless.

Useless.

Tired.

_Trapped._

Standing on the beach, Emma stared out at the water, watching as the waves rolled in; their foamy white peaks angry and unforgiving as they violently crashed to the sandy shore. While they had been out at sea the water had been eerily calm and nearly motionless but the minute they had docked and come ashore something had shifted in the air—the sea had grown rougher, the sky had darkened ever so slightly.

It was like their presence was known and the land was slowly rejecting them.

It was a thought that had worry slinking down her spine as fear coiled tight in her gut.

"Emma? "

Turning from the water, she watched as Mary Margaret tentatively made her way towards her—her expression wary, her eyes glimmering with sadness. For a moment, she felt a pang of regret slice through her fast; she knew her behavior the past forty-eight hours or so had been tiring, her words cutting.

"Are you ready? Hook seems pretty familiar with this area. He and David did some quick scouting while gathering some fruit and plants, they said there's a large and deep freshwater stream just beyond those trees. It appears safe. Regina, you, and myself will wash up first while David, Hook, and Gold stand watch around the perimeter. When we're done, we'll switch." Biting her lip, she took a step closer, "does that sound okay?"

Sighing softly, Emma nodded her head—regardless of how she felt about their decision to wait another day, reluctantly she had to admit bathing had never sounded so good. Her hair was a tangled mess, her body felt sticky and raw—the salt from the spray of the sea, coating her skin.

Drawing her attention to a pile of what appeared to be linens that Mary Margaret held in her arms, she raised a brow. "What's that?"

"Just some things to wash up and dry off with. Bar soap…" she paused, smirking slightly, "it smells like lavender…it's kind of nice." Handing over the items, she watched Emma carefully as she did. "There's also some clean clothes too…Hook found some shirts and a few pairs of pants. They seem smaller." She smiled softly. "perhaps a cabin boys…I thought maybe I could wash our clothes and we could wear these for the time being." offering another smile, she gave a little shrug. "It'll be nice to wear something clean."

Glancing down Emma raised a brow at the cream-colored blouse and dark brown trousers she had been given, running her fingers over them carefully, tracing tiny patterns into the fabric, she sighed softly. "Sure."

"You don't have to wear them. I just thought, I mean…"

"Thank you."

Trailing off, Mary Margaret paused, studying her for a moment before her eyes lightened a bit, her expression relaxing considerably. "You're welcome. The others are waiting…are you ready?"

Nodding Emma moved away from the water and falling into step alongside Mary Margaret, they headed towards where everyone had gathered at the edge of the forest waiting for them, her mind wandering darkly as they walked in silence.

"He's trying you know."

Glancing over at her mother, Emma shot her a curious look, "Who?"

"Hook. He's trying. I really believe he is."

Considering her words, she tried to keep her expression neutral, even as her mind raced with the odd and perplexing statement. "That's a pretty fast change of heart…even for you. I thought you didn't trust him."

Mary Margaret shook her head, her eyes drifting to where Regina, Gold, Hook, and David stood and waving them ahead, she watched as they slowly began their trek into the woods before turning her attention back to Emma. "I'm not saying I completely trust him…but right now…I think he seems genuine. Something's changed in him. There's something different—there's a look in his eyes…something that wasn't there before."

Shifting the linens and clothes in her hands, Emma carefully stepped over a root, remembering the advice about the strange and exotic looking plants that sprouted in abundance throughout the forest. And even though the path they were taking had been deemed safe, she couldn't help but walk with extra caution, her gaze flitting over the brightly colored flowers that lined their trail. "Oh really and what exactly do you see in his eyes now?"

"Hope."

A slight shudder rippled through her body at the simply said word. Something in her stomach leapt as her heart stopped for a moment or two before beating rapidly. Somewhat alarmed by her body's reaction, she swallowed over her suddenly narrowed throat, and picking up her pace, she shook her head quickly. "Yeah well he's still a pirate."

"You're awfully hard on him."

"And maybe you're being too soft."

"He came back for us Emma."

"Yeah after first leaving us to die."

As they moved into the clearing, Mary Margaret stopped, her eyes scanning the area in front of her. Following her gaze, Emma took in the sight of the secluded alcove—the trees that surrounded the banks of the large stream were towering and leafy green; their branches hanging low, some were covered with vines bursting with colorful flowers of every shade of pink, orange, and red imaginable. Their silky petals nearly tempted one to reach out and touch them, causing Emma to pause, and squinting, she considered them more carefully—Hook's warning about Neverland's deadly beauty still ringing in her ears.

The rocky shore gave way to the calmly flowing clear water, a massive boulder stood proudly in the middle of the stream, the dark rock gleaming and nearly sparkling in the fading sun as water flowed gently around it—the stream opening up even wider on the other side. A single white bird with a bright red beak sat on top of it unmoving; it's eyes seemingly following the small group appraised the trespassers carefully, causing a shiver of unease to ripple through her fast. Watching as Regina stood at the edge of the water, looking at it somewhat disdainfully, Emma noted when David, Hook and Gold moved away, giving them their privacy so that they could bathe somewhat freely.

"But he didn't."

"What?"

Walking away from her and towards the water, Emma just barely heard Mary Margaret's words as she pulled up just short of the stream.

"He didn't end up leaving us to die…he came back. That has to count for something." Glancing back at her, her blue eyes unreadable, she pursed her lips slightly, her gaze searching Emma's face before offering a small somewhat sad smile. "You have ten minutes—stay on this side of the boulder, Hook says if you pass it the stream begins to open up. Apparently it can be more dangerous. Just—just don't pass it." And with those words she whipped her shirt over her head without preamble, toeing off her shoes and pants quickly before stepping into the water.

Rolling her eyes, Emma slowly moved in the opposite direction; she felt more than a little uncomfortable knowing she had to bathe with a small audience nearby. But realizing that both Mary Margaret and Regina were intent on getting themselves clean, their attention elsewhere, she shrugged and moved further down the bank to give herself some much needed privacy, her eyes and ears taking in the sights and sounds of the exotic world around her.

She had never seen so much color, so much vibrant growth, part of her longed to disappear into it—an odd thought that was both shocking and agreeing.

When she felt properly secluded, quickly she peeled off her boots and clothes and grabbing the bar of soap her mother had given her, moved into the stream, shuddering when the cool water hit her salt coated skin—the gentle waves lapping around her soothingly, beckoning her further in. Wading deeper, she let out a small somewhat contented sigh and sinking down until the water reached her neck, she inhaled a deep breath before dipping her head under.

Gradually everything around her disappeared into nothing.

Closing her eyes for a moment she felt her body relax, her mind drifting as her tense muscles eventually began to loosen, the shock and grief of the past couple of days leaving her momentarily as she sunk further beneath the surface. Finally, feeling somewhat at ease, she opened her eyes, blinking once and then twice. Her gaze adjusting, she noted with some awe how clear the water around her was. Watching as her hair billowed out in front of her, the blonde strands floating softly in gentle waves, her attention drifted, landing on a small yellow fish as it swam past her fast, disappearing behind some bright and friendly looking purple plant.

Slowly she began to swim.

Moving deeper into the stream she glided through the water, feeling weightless, almost free. Part of her wanted to stay under there forever, part of her wished she could hide beneath the surface and will the rest of the world to go away as she just continued to float and swim, forgetting every terrible thing that had ever happened to her. And as the somewhat alarming yearning slowly consumed her, somewhere off in the distance she heard a soft sound, something low and lilting.

A song.

The gentle tune soothed her, calming her somewhat frazzled nerves. And as she strained to hear more, she felt a sudden burning sensation in her lungs, her brain warning she needed to come up for air, even as small voice whispered for her to stay. Finally, unable to take the pressure in her chest, she pushed upwards and resurfaced, gasping softly as she greedily gulped in the fresh and warm air. Glancing around her, she scanned the area for the source of the music, frowning when she heard nothing, only the soft trickle of the water and the gentle sounds of the forest around her drifting to her ears.

_She was losing it. _

Letting her gaze fall back on the streambank, she noted with some surprise that she had drifted farther away from the group than she had intended, coming up just short of the boulder. Scanning the area again, she saw that Regina and Mary Margaret were already out of the water, Regina staring off into the distance as she dressed herself quickly while her mother washed and rinsed a pile of clothes at her side.

On a sigh, she remembered the soap in her hand and tilting her head back, she began to lather her hair, humming in appreciation as the soft scent of lavender invaded her nose—the tightness in her neck beginning to fade as she soaped up the rest of her tired body, her movements becoming quicker as she considered how long she had been in the water. And shrugging off the fact that she had lost track of time, with a relaxed sigh, and a stretch of her muscles, she took another deep breath before disappearing beneath the surface once again.

Almost immediately she heard the song.

It was beautiful.

There were no words.

It was just a simple melody.

And it called to her.

Dimly she heard a voice in her head, pushing for her to turn around, to resurface, warning her something wasn't right. But a louder, clearer, more determined voice urged her to find the source—something pushing her forward as she moved through the water once again. And as she swam, the sound grew louder, the music sweeter, beckoning her closer, tempting her deeper and further into the stream. Soon her chest began to burn again, the voice in her head once again warning her she needed air—the plea barely audible above the lovely notes of the song she was suddenly so intent on following.

She needed to hear more.

It was heartbreaking.

It was beautiful.

Even without words, it spoke of loyalty and redemption, betrayal and sacrifice.

_Love._

Her gaze searching, her ears seeking, she stubbornly ignored her body as it protested its lack of oxygen—she had to find the source of the music.

She wanted more…she craved it, desired it…

_Needed it._

And then, suddenly through the spellbinding melody she heard her name—whispered softly, encouragingly.

_Emma._

Her head began to feel light, her vision started to waver. But she paid it no mind; because of the song…the song was so beautiful…so very heartbreakingly beautiful. It spoke to her; it was in her head, whispering to her, promising to make it all go away—her sadness, her grief, her loneliness—the hypnotizing notes lured her deeper, summoning her further.

_Emma._

She needed to find where it was coming from. If she could find it, grasp it—everything that hurt would disappear. And she was so sick of being in pain, of constantly being alone, of continually losing those she loved.

_Emma._

She just wanted so badly to float away, to drift off with the music, to allow it to wrap itself around her. It would take care of her; she wouldn't have to worry anymore—it would all be fine, her worries would go away.

It would all go away.

_Emma._

And stretching out her hands, she reached towards the sound, everything around her beginning to go black as a slight buzzing sounded in her ears. And as she allowed the song to pull her deeper, dimly she felt a gentle tugging pull at her outstretched hands as a dull weight landed heavily on her chest. Vaguely she heard a voice in her head scream something at her—something about danger and moving.

But the song…the song was getting quieter, softer.

She was losing it…losing the perfect and haunting melody.

_Emma._

Her body began to sink, something strong pulled her deeper, her mind was fading, everything was going black and she was getting tired, so very, very tired.

The music was slowly vanishing, everything around her disappearing.

_Swan!_

Suddenly it was all taken from her—the song, the comfort, the blackness—it all went away, ripped from her cruelly. The water around her moved as something strong grasped her around the waist—a screeching and strangled noise filled her ears as she was yanked hard from her blissful fog and pulled to the surface fast.

"Get the bloody hell away from her!"

She heard a voice, mixed with both fear and anger shout the demand, the bellowing words carrying above the sudden anguished shrieking that was echoing around her in loud and pulsing waves. At the sound, almost dazedly she opened her eyes, watching as something violently flailed before her, the water splashing and whipping her face with the harsh and forceful thrashing. Slowly her hazy gaze focused on the movement, her glassy stare falling on the stunningly pale face of a creature so unearthly that her heart stopped beating for a moment as its eyes landed on her angrily, the green orbs shocking against its pale nearly translucent skin. Shrieking at her, it showed her a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth, the action marring its beauty, before hissing a threatening warning and diving back into the stream; disappearing beneath the water, its lithe form rippled under the surface, swimming away from her fast—its speed both impressive and shocking.

Gasping for breath, Emma continued to watch the creature swim out of sight, sputtering as she belatedly sucked in a deep breath—nearly choking as her angry lungs expanded painfully. Greedily and hungrily they accepted the air they had lacked while beneath the surface, her throat feeling tight as she wheezed and coughed in sputtering fits.

"Emma? Can you hear me?

The voice spoke low in her ear and as the hold around her waist tightened, she noticed with some vague sense of awareness that she was hurriedly being pulled from the water. Her body was dragged to the banks of the stream and dumped unceremoniously onto the soft and mossy grass. Rolling her head back, she stared up at the cloudless sky, shaded only by the towering trees that hovered over her, and sucking in another deep breath, she shivered a bit as the cool air hit her wet and naked skin.

"Emma? Look at me. Are you alright lass…can you talk?"

She felt a warm presence next to her, something was draped over her body and turning her head to the side, dimly she noted that she must have drifted far beyond the boulder to where the stream had opened up—the secluded sanctuary she'd been bathing in nearly out of sight. Coughing again, she lifted her eyes to the figure that was kneeling next to her as, slow realization dawning on her as her muddled brain gradually began to clear.

"Good gods Swan say something."

The lilting voice carried a mixture of exasperation and worry.

It took her only a moment to place the familiar tone.

_Hook._

Glancing up, she blinked rapidly, hazily watching as his face swam into focus. He was staring down at her hard, his eyes swirling with something she couldn't quite make out, a tight frown tugging at his dark features.

He had saved her.

_Why had he saved her?_

"What—what the hell was that?" she rasped, her voice raw, her body heavy and exhausted.

Watching as his face came more clearly into view—deep lines of worry etched into his forehead, his blue eyes even brighter against his damp skin and wet hair—her heart began to beat fast, as her body shook with what she told herself was nothing more than a chill.

"A Naiad …water nymph…her song had lured you beneath the surface." He paused, considering her for a moment. "This land preys on the hopeless Emma...you've made yourself an easy target."

"Water nymph..." she trailed off in a disbelieving laugh. Ignoring the implications of his statement, her chest heaved somewhat heavily as she stared up at the sky for a moment or two, and attempting to grasp what exactly had nearly happened to her, she closed her eyes tight before looking back up at him. "What the hell was its problem?"

A grim smile touched Hook's lips as he glanced at the stream, his gaze distant, a touch of sadness lurked in his tone, "I haven't the faintest idea. They used to be fairly peaceful creatures, helpful even…" pausing he sighed, the sound wistful. "but I suppose that was some time ago." His attention shifting, he stared down at her unblinkingly, something odd flashing in his eyes as his gaze roamed over her freely. "Best cover-up princess, here comes the cavalry. "

At his words Emma raised her head from the grass and briefly looked down at her body. Save for the sopping wet shirt that was carelessly draped over her middle, just barely covering her breasts, she was completely exposed. Her cheeks flaming, she swallowed over the rising lump in her throat, and repositioned the shirt so that it covered her a bit more thoroughly before glancing back up at him—her eyes widening considerably as she allowed herself to fully take in the sight of him.

He was naked from the waist up.

He had given her his shirt.

Watching as something that closely resembled amusement crept into his gaze as her eyes met his, she narrowed her brows and shaking her head as confusion whirled in her brain, she moved her hands, almost protectively holding his shirt closer to her trembling body.

"You…um…ahh..."

Almost as if hearing the bewilderment in her tone, a hint of a smile crossed his features as he continued to stare at her with soft unashamed humor. "Always a gentleman love."

"Emma!"

It was David's voice who drew her attention away, worry and fear heavily doused in his tone.

Turning her gaze from the bare-chested pirate who was still kneeling over her, she closed her eyes before taking in a deep breath, ignoring her fathers furious accusations as he came across the poorly concealed duo. And unable to suppress a wince when she heard Mary Margaret's soft gasp, she swore softly under her breath, pretending not to hear the low and hypnotizing chuckle that sounded next to her as David questioned Hook in a furious and icy tone.

Instead of opening her eyes, instead of attempting to smooth things over, instead of offering her help and coming to the defense of the man who had saved her, she merely laid unmoving where she was. And as exhaustion swept over her fast, once again she silently willed everything away—violently and somewhat unfairly cursing the darkly enchanted world and the infuriating pirate who had brought her to the Godforsaken land to the farthest and hottest corners of hell.

* * *

**_I promise Emma will warm up soon..._**

**_Maybe._**

**_Review? PLEASE? I'll give you chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and whipped cream on it—OR maybe I'll give you more naked Emma and shirtless Hook. I mean whatevs right?  
_**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey all! So in case you don't follow me on tumblr, I wanted to apologize for the delay in updating. I know I'm a day behind my Tuesday schedule, but like I had explained to those on tumblr, I had been delayed with some traveling, falling a bit behind with fics. Hopefully it won't happen again. Anywho, here's the next update. Hope you enjoy. Your reviews have continued to blow me away, making me smile and fangirl so THANK YOU—sorry I was unable to get back to many of you. But my week was suuuuuuuuuuuuuuper busy. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.**_

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_

* * *

Sleep was once again avoiding her.

After the incident with the nymph Emma had dressed quickly and fled to the ship with the rest of the group fast on her heels. Too tired and annoyed to care about their feelings, she had refused to offer any explanation to her parents about her state of undress with Hook on the banks of the stream. And try as she might, she couldn't deny there had also been a small part of her that had secretly hoped David would get one good hit in before realizing Hook's actions had been surprisingly honorable. Even as a voice scolded her internally for her unfair thoughts—having saved her from the claws of the angry creature she knew he deserved more than what she had offered him—she couldn't help but smirk at the thought of him getting sucker punched in the face..._again._

_A bloodied nose might serve the arrogant bastard right. _

She didn't even want to consider her violent tendencies towards the pirate—more than a little irritated that he got under her skin so much even when being uncharacteristically helpful. Hell, she owed the damn man her life; a simple fact that bothered her more than she'd care to admit to.

A simple fact that, when coupled with the ever-chaotic thoughts of her son, had kept her up for the past couple of hours, staring at the ceiling hard as her mind replayed the events from earlier over and over again.

It was becoming an annoying habit...insomnia.

As the bright blue sky had darkened to black and the rest of the small group had turned in, sleep had mercilessly continued to elude her. Weary and worn out she had attempted every trick in the book, tossing and turning on her uncomfortable makeshift bed until finally exhaustion had stubbornly won over, claiming her briefly.

But the rest that had followed had been short-lived and unsatisfying.

Her dreams, both cruel and taunting, had soaked her body in a damp and cold sweat—images of a dark and deadly nymph's grasp pulling her under churning and blood filled waters had filled her head, the dim sound of Henry's voice shouting her name in a pleading and scared tone ringing in her ears. The nightmare, mixed with the warm and humid air in the crew's cabin, had done little to help ensure the much needed rest her body craved. It wasn't long after she had found sleep that she had woke up gasping for breath with the urge to scream bubbling up in her throat. Immediately afterwards she had lain wide-awake staring at the wooden planks and listening to the heavy and even breathing of those who lay around her. Envying them their rest she had silently cursed each one of them under her breath until she couldn't take the stifling and stale atmosphere of the cabin any longer.

And now, dawn still hours away, she found herself once again walking the decks of the Jolly Roger, hoping the night air would help calm her ever turning and racing mind.

Crossing her arms over her chest and welcoming the light breeze that rippled through her hair, Emma stopped short as she came across another lonely sleep deprived figure. Watching as Hook stood motionless—his body taut, his good hand on the hilt of his sword—she considered him as he stared off into the distance with his gaze focused intently on the silhouette of the flourishing land before him. Taking in the sight of him under the star-lit sky—his prominent profile, his dark hair ruffling in the wind and his black clothes radiating a threatening persona—she couldn't help but stare. Her eyes roamed over him carefully absorbing every inch of him as something warm and unsettling crept its way over her skin.

He looked like he belonged—the dark and brooding pirate king in a beautiful and exotic world that was filled with vast amounts of both dangers and treasures.

It was a breathtaking sight.

Eyes widening round and big, Emma shook her head quickly both surprised and somewhat disgusted by her thoughts. And angry with herself for allowing the romantic musings to weasel their way into her mind, she pushed them away fast—she hadn't the time nor the desire to appreciate both Neverland and Hook's attractive qualities.

She had a mission to accomplish—only one goal in mind.

But first, before she could fully focus on Henry and his rescue, there was one thing she had to get out of the way.

She had to thank him.

It was a task she wasn't looking forward to.

But seeing as though they were both up, sleep obviously a distant notion, she supposed there was no time like the present. And with a definitive nod, she squared her shoulders and made her way over to him, her steps quick, the clinking of her boots quiet. Approaching him fast, she cleared her throat, softly alerting him to her presence. And watching as he turned towards her, she bit back the small frown that threatened her lips as his eyes immediately and without even a trace of apology raked over her slowly, a tiny admiring smile ghosting across his chiseled features.

"I knew you'd make a hell of a pirate Swan." His tone held clear and bold amusement mixed with the faintest hint of something else she couldn't, and didn't want to, place. "You look rather fetching in that attire…" Allowing his eyes to move over her from top to bottom, he shrugged somewhat carelessly. "Even if it is nothing more than a cabin boy's garments I quite like the looks of you in it. It's easy to picture you sailing the high seas, the world at your feet, yours for the taking."

Stepping towards her slowly, he allowed his smile to widen gradually—the roguish grin causing her to falter slightly in her path to him as he continued to glower appreciatively at her without so much as blinking. Gritting her teeth and ignoring his words, her scowl deepened, suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible, back in her own world, in her own goddamned clothes—the poor-fitting ones she had on making her feel uncomfortable and out of place under his ever-appraising gaze.

_Stupid pirate._

She knew he was trying to get a rise out of her as he continued to stare. Just as she was also well aware that the dark brown pants Mary Margaret had given her hugged her hips tightly, forming to her bottom. The soft cream-colored blouse, while loose in her chest, was low in the neck and short in her arms, something she had remedied quickly by rolling them up to her elbows. With the tall black boots she had slipped on before coming above deck and the sword she had grabbed last-minute tucked into the borrowed belt at her side, she had to admit she felt like she had just stepped out of some cheesy romantic fantasy novel.

And scoffing at the very idea, she rolled her eyes.

Deciding to change the subject, needing to get on with what she had approached him for in the first place, she came to a halt just short of him, leveling him with an even and cool stare. "Listen," she stopped abruptly, her throat closing in on her, she glanced over her shoulder, biting her lip as she considered just leaving him—maybe she didn't owe him anything. He probably wasn't expecting her to express her gratitude for his earlier actions anyway. They weren't on the best of terms as it was, he'd probably laugh in her face the minute she uttered her appreciation.

_Coward._

The thought jarred her, the voice in her head whispering the word in a harsh and hissing voice. And unable to argue with it, reluctantly agreeing with it, she closed her eyes for a moment.

_Thank you._

It was a simple statement, two easily said words.

Taking a deep breath she tried to calm her suddenly racing pulse, harshly demanding that she just suck it up and spit it out—she couldn't allow guilt to occupy her mind and hinder her search for Henry. "I never—I never thanked you." The words were softly spoken, murmured carefully, hesitantly. And when he said nothing, only offered her a subtle raise of his brows she took in another breath before continuing. "For earlier…at the stream…for saving me. You didn't have to. I'm not really sure why you did…but—but…thank you."

_Thank you._

For some reason she felt as if it had been a long time coming—thanking him. But really, what else did she have to be grateful for, his past actions warranted anything but her appreciation.

"I mean it Hook I—I was stupid, I let my emotions get the best of me. I should have known the minute I heard the song that something was wrong but instead I ignored my gut. Had it not been for you I could have...I mean…well…just...thank you."

Still he said nothing.

The wind continued to blow softly between them, the sound of the sea lapping against the ship growing louder in her ears—his silence was nearly as unnerving as his stare.

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable she sighed and shifting her footing, she looked down, a string of profanities running through her head as annoyance crawled up her spine. Of course he wouldn't make it easy for her, of course he would have her gravel first. Toeing at a wooden plank with the tip of her boot she frowned for a moment as unease continued to sweep through her fast. "Listen I know…I know you didn't have to come with us, I'm still not completely sure why you're even here. And I know you didn't have to jump in that stream and save me, especially since..." She paused for a moment unsure how to finish her thought as their shouted words from the day of their sword fight resonated softly in her head. "Since we've been at odds." She said slowly, somewhat lamely, her voice trailing off.

Still he offered her nothing but silence.

And with the deafening quiet she wanted so badly to take back her words, irritated by his reaction.

Until suddenly, almost surprisingly, feeling an abrupt and odd pull she met his gaze, blinking once then twice when she swiftly became caught up in his stare, startled by the softness she was met with in his sea-blue eyes—the look urging her to continue on. "So I just wanted to thank you…because…"

"Because it's the right thing to do." He finished quietly for her, his mouth twitching upwards into a small smirk.

Nodding slowly she swallowed, refusing to look away. "Yes. I mean I guess so."

His gaze still soft, he took another step forward, his closeness bringing a tingling of awareness to her body—for a moment he just continued to stare at her, his eyes open and honest. Something warm and faintly gentle glimmered in them briefly, before, in the blink of an eye, it faded and was replaced with a devilish twinkle and a somewhat sinister gleam.

"No need to thank me lass…it's not every day one gets to hold such a blissfully naked beauty in his arms." His voice was smooth as velvet, dark and seductive, spoken low in a hushed whisper, the humor from before gone. Shooting her a wide grin, he took another step towards her, leaning in and appearing almost conspiratorial. "Or should I say a blissfully naked, _wet _beauty..."

Her mouth fell open slightly at his words, her cheeks flushing a bright pink by the abrupt turn of events. She wanted to hate him. She had opened herself up to him, she had tried to extend the olive branch, she had attempted to smooth things over, and still he had met her with arrogance and crudeness—he had found a way to turn her words of gratitude into something offensive.

_She wanted to hate him._

But unfortunately she found herself unable to muster up the strong emotion, falling short of coming even close to it. Because even as he so obviously was attempting to throw her, taking pleasure in the way she faltered and flustered in front of him, she also recognized the signs of a person carefully attempting to keep their walls in place—it was easy to spot someone battling their inner demons when she had spent years perfecting the art herself.

He was uncomfortable by her gratefulness and because of it was attempting to push her away.

It was something that struck a chord within her.

"Stop." She whispered, lifting her head she stared at him hard, unmoving when he merely raised a brow and stepped even closer to her.

"Stop what darling? Aren't you curious if I enjoyed it…the sight of you laid before me completely exposed, the feel of you pressed against me."

"That's enough."

"Is it?"

He was close now, too close; the heat of his body mingling with hers, his scent wrapping itself around her. She could feel the beating of her heart in her throat; her stomach had nearly dropped to her knees.

But still she stood her ground.

"I get it. You're not used to people being grateful. You're so used to playing the villain you aren't sure how to react when you actually do something decent."

The wind picked up with her words, blowing her hair up around her and causing a few strands to dance across her face. And he stared at her curiously for a moment, unmoving, before reaching out with his good hand, his fingers catching a stray billowing lock of blonde, he tugged on it softly.

"Or perhaps I didn't do anything decent. Perhaps I'm just a greedy pirate and I'm merely waiting for the right moment to take my reward."

She raised a brow, everything inside of her screamed to pull away from him as leaned towards her, his breath fluttering hotly across her face, his fingers clinging to her hair. But defiantly she stood in place, refusing to waver. "Or maybe under that dark exterior is a decent guy."

The smile he shot her was devoid of emotion, and ever stealthy he brought his hooked arm up fast, wrapping it around her waist and taking her by surprise as he pulled her stiff body towards him hard—something inside of her screaming at the contact, urging her to push him away and fight back.

"Is that all it takes? Saving the damsel in distress from a nymph's song. I thought I was nothing more than a nuisance, a bloody bastard who had chosen the wrong side again and again. Such a rapid change in heart since our duel darling?"

She blinked rapidly, her eyes fluttering and her heart pounding as pressed up against him tightly she thought back to their swordfight—her raging anger, their clashing blades—and drawing her lip into her mouth, she nearly shuddered as his eyes followed the action. "Prove me wrong."

She hadn't meant for her voice to waver, she hadn't intended for her tone to sound so pleading, so desperate and vulnerable. She hadn't realized her fingers had drifted up to his shoulders, grasping them tightly and digging into the skin there as her eyes practically begged him to prove to her that there were still good and decent people in the world—that fairytale villains could change their paths, that not everything was set in stone.

And as her request hung in the small space between them, the air nearly popped and sizzled with something terrifying and near tangible.

For a moment she forgot herself.

For a brief, brief moment, as she stared up into the endless depths of blue with the wind picking up around them and the sky twinkling above them, she nearly forgot why she was in Neverland in the first place with the wayward and infuriating pirate who had left her only to come back.

And then the moment was gone, he was releasing her slowly, pushing her from him gently.

"Get some rest Swan." His voice was gruff, dark and deep—an almost ancient pain echoing in his tone. And turning away from her, he stared out at the water once again, his fist clenched at his side, his body tense and nearly vibrating with some unspoken emotion. "Neverland isn't for the tired and weak."

And it was with his dismissive tone, and his avoiding eyes that she knew the conversation was over—she had thanked him and in the process they had both almost shown more of themselves than either had ever intended.

Turning away from him she headed below deck, trying to shake the phantom feeling of his body pressed against hers as she quickly walked away.

* * *

It was hot—the air thick and sweltering.

Deep within the densely wooded forest, the shade from the trees provided little relief to the island's unyielding and relentless heat, the scorching sun managing to somehow find its way through the thick leaves, its stubborn rays providing a near stifling atmosphere.

It was draining, the suffocating and unforgiving temperatures exhausting.

But still they pushed on.

Rest was for the weak.

Her hair was damp and nearly dripping with sweat—even pulled back into a loose ponytail, the limp strands stuck to her neck, curling around her face to create a soft golden halo. Swatting a low hanging branch out of her way, Emma wiped her brow and glanced behind her briefly; watching as Mary Margaret and David steadily picked their way up the path she and Hook were forging, Regina and Gold trailing not far behind, their eyes keeping watch, diligently on the look out for any threat that may attack from the rear.

Bringing her eyes back to the forest that lay ahead of her, Emma tried to ignore the masculine presence at her side and instead let her gaze wander around the brightly colored scenery as the sword she held in her hand cut through anything that threatened to slow the group's careful trek. They had been in the enchanted world for over a day, traveling across the land for hours, and still its beauty was something she was unable to quite grasp—the sights and sounds something she had previously only imagined could exist in books and movies.

Old and solid trees stood proud and tall, lining the path they were taking and bursting with rich and velvety greens—bright silky flowers decorated the drooping and heavy branches in blues so deep and vivid that Emma longed to reach out and pick one, the urge taking her by surprise and making her feel ridiculously feminine. Thick and old vines crept their way up some of the larger trunks, sharp and foreboding black thorns shooting out in every direction, threatening both prey and predator to keep away from the dark brown bark. Short and fat bushes with leaves as large as a small child sprouted up from the land carelessly, some carrying fat and plump purple berries while others were decorated with big and intense yellow stripes—both something Hook had informed the rest of them could apparently kill a large man with even the tiniest of bites.

But it was the dirt at their feet that had captured her attention more than anything else.

The dry mud they were carefully shuffling through softly glimmered with something shiny and bright, the sparkling hints of gold becoming that much more obvious whenever the sun was able to burst its way through the thick shaded barrier of the thriving trees.

"Pixie dust."

Glancing over at the low murmur beside her, Emma raised a brow, watching as Hook shot her a sideways look, a tiny smirk playing across his dark features.

"The sparkly dirt you see on the ground—it's remnants of pixie dust." He said softly, answering her unasked question in a somewhat amused voice.

She paused for a moment, faltering a bit in her step as she realized how easily he had once again observed her—reading her near effortlessly. It was something that had her heart beating slightly faster as she considered his surprising revelation.

"Oh um…huh. I see." She mumbled lamely after a moment or two of picturing little fairies dressed in green with golden hair and pointed shoes—something hopeful shooting through her, the lost girl in her thrilling at the thought. "Like fairy dust."

The smile that touched his lips was tight, his eyes crinkling a bit around the corners. "Similar. Only pixie dust is stronger…more potent. Legend has it…it doesn't exist in its true form any longer…its life source was taken from the pixies long ago."

Stepping carefully over a large jagged rock, she ducked under a low branch before focusing her attention back on him. "Its life source?"

"The pixie's light."

"The pixie's light? What's that? What happened to it?" she asked, watching as a small monkey-like creature crawled up the trunk of a tree at her side before swinging from branch to branch with unhurried and graceful movements.

"Another story for another day." He cut through a thick vine and glanced behind him, observing the rest of the group with cool eyes. Following his gaze Emma frowned seeing that her parents had dropped off a bit, Regina and Gold so far away she could barely make them out through the dense growth.

"Why not tell me now?" she asked, bringing her focus back to him and his talk of pixies and dust and light.

"We should rest soon." Hook stated pointedly ignoring her question with a purposeful look before taking a slow step closer to her, causing her to tense involuntarily as he invaded her personal space.

"We don't have time to rest." She protested almost immediately, thoughts of winged little fairy-like creatures flying from her head fast as her attention once again zeroed in on Henry.

"Watching each one of you slowly drop off, collapsing from thirst and hunger isn't really the way I'd like to go about rescuing your lad, darling. It's high time you learn to trust me…at least while we're here. I'll not steer you in the wrong direction if I can help it, and right now from what I'm observing not everyone in the group is running off the pure rage of emotions you are. They need breaks and in this heat quite often…you'd do best to heed my advice if you'd like to keep our small party in tact."

Sighing at his words, Emma wiped her brow again, running her hand down from her forehead to the back of her neck, she massaged the muscles there lightly with a small wince before nodding stiffly in resigned defeat. "Fine. We'll find a clearing and rest for a few minutes."

She could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke next, his body coming even closer as his eyes twinkled with touch of humor. "Aye…now was that so difficult lass?"

"Yes." She admitted softly, unable to keep a tiny smirk from pulling at her lips as he grinned down at her—it was odd how much different he looked when he flashed her a genuine smile. No malice or sarcasm was laced within the quick tilt of his lips—he appeared honestly amused by her reluctant admission. And before she had the time to register his actions she watched through slightly hazy vision as he reached around her and plucked something from behind her, the sound of a light rustling softly drifting to her ears before he pulled back—smile still in place, eyes glimmering with slight mischief. For a moment she wondered about the man who stood before her, the dark pirate she had battled on the decks of the Jolly Roger barely recognizable.

"Weeping lilies." He said softly, showing her the blue flower he held in his hand, similar to the ones she'd been eying only moments ago. Twirling it in his fingers his gaze drifted from her to the vibrant petals. " Legend has it there was a young and beautiful girl who fell in love with a charming rogue. He courted her famously, ignoring the strong disapproval of her family. The maiden was as naïve as she was fair, and eventually unable to stay away any longer, followed her heart. Running away, she hastily married the rogue against her father's wishes." Stepping even closer, his eyes roamed over the flower for a moment before he took in a breath, continuing softly. "Setting out to live a life full of adventure and excitement, they traveled to many lands and saw many of the wonders the world has to offer. They were happy...or so it seemed. Loving their gypsy lifestyle they continued to wander about—following the wind, allowing it to lead them wherever it saw fit."

She shook her head a moment, unsure where he was going with his story. And not wanting to waste any time, she was about to stop him—they needed to keep moving—when he began speaking once again, cutting her off abruptly.

Soon his richly accented voice had her forgetting about their journey, and curious to learn more, she found herself leaning closer, intent on listening to the tale.

"It wasn't long before their lives changed drastically—the girl began to grow, her stomach swelling with child. As she grew heavier the pair was forced to stop their wandering ways. And while the rogue resented the unborn baby for hindering their plans the young maiden was pleased. She loved the baby fiercely. She would talk to her rounded stomach about the worlds they would see together and the adventures they would have…she wanted nothing more than for her child to be happy."

He paused for a moment, staring hard at the flower again, his mouth twitching slightly before continuing once more. "She gave birth to a thriving baby boy. He had his mother's clear blue eyes and she would often quip about how he had his father's adventurous spirit." Frowning slightly he raised his bright eyes to her, the intensity in his stare causing her to flinch back a bit. "It wasn't long after she had the child that she grew ill and unable to become well again, she died before her son saw his third birthday. And with her last breath she begged her husband to give their lad a good life, making him promise on their love that he would take care of him." A dark chuckle suddenly escaped his lips as he paused once more, something heavy and telling lingering in the short laugh. "But her husband was really nothing more than a black hearted scoundrel in disguise and it wasn't long after the lass' death that he abandoned the boy, leaving him alone in a cruel and harsh world."

Taking another step towards her, he drew even nearer, his eyes on hers; luring her in as his hypnotizing voice continued to weave his heartbreaking tale. "It is said that the young girl watched from the heavens with a broken heart, crying out for the boy she loved dearly and the man who had broken his promise to her. Her tears fell from the sky and finding their way to Neverland, they mixed with the pixie dust and settled into the ground and onto the trees. And where each teardrop fell, this flower sprang, the blue mirroring the color of her eyes dimmed with both pain and grief as she watched her son struggle in an unforgiving and demanding world. The pixies, seeing the tears fall from the sky, took pity on the weeping mother and finding the child brought him to Neverland where they raised him as one of their own."

He stopped talking then, his gaze flitting back to the flower, and considering it for a moment, he looked back up at her, something unreadable glimmering in the blue of his eyes—eyes that almost perfectly matched the deep shade of the flower he held.

"What happened to the boy?" Emma asked softly, breaking the long drawn out silence, something odd and exciting dancing up her back as she waited to hear the rest.

Allowing his gaze to drift back to hers, he smirked slightly and shrugged his shoulders, mischief once again creeping back into his eyes. "He became somewhat of a King, frolicking around the land as if he bloody owned it. The pixies loved him dearly, the mermaids allowed him to swim in their seas, the nymphs fawned over him, the gnomes kept their distance, and even the Piccaninny treated him with begrudging respect."

It was a familiar tale. A boy abandoned by his parents, brought to a timeless world, frolicking with the creatures that inhabited the beautiful land.

It was a tale she knew well.

Biting her lip she continued to stare at him, somewhat captivated—her eyes searching his curiously. "Where is he now?"

Regret, sadness, and loss glimmered in his gaze for a moment, edged out only by the faintest traces of acceptance, before he shot her a rather reluctant smile. "He did what all boys eventually do…he grew up."

Taking a step towards him, she watched as he raised an eyebrow, confusion and a amusement flitting across his features as she moved closer, and sucking in a deep breath she briefly wondered for a moment about the swift feeling of excitement that continued to rush through her fast. "Sounds familiar."

"Does it?"

"Peter Pan…is that who you're talking about."

A tight grin followed by a low chuckle was his only answer at first before with a nod and a shrug of his shoulders, he closed the small gap between them so that their bodies were nearly brushing. She had to wonder about how they constantly seemed to find themselves in such close proximity.

"Some have referred to him as that."

"And others?"

Bringing his focus back to the flower in his hand, he began to twirl it between his fingers once again. "Hmm?"

"You said some refer to him as that…and what do others call him. If not Peter Pan what else is he called?" She couldn't explain the pounding of her heart, the sudden clamminess of her hands. She felt as if she was on the verge of learning something important, something she knew the answer to but was too afraid to admit to—the very notion something she couldn't fully grasp, so instead she watched him intently as she waited for his answer.

"The flower brings out the blue of your eyes Emma." He said instead of answering the question, bringing his hand up he placed the bright blue petals near her face, smiling a little as she rolled her eyes. "You've the faintest traces of blue and green in that stormy gray gaze of yours, the flower brings out the blue in it."

"And it nearly matches yours." She said almost automatically, something in the back of her mind clicking with the statement.

"Aye. That it does." He murmured the words softly, humor and sadness clashing in his tone as he looked away from her—but not before offering her the flower he held, the smile on his lips lazy, the glimmer in his eyes far away.

"Hook who—"

"That too is another story for another day," he whispered quietly, repeating his words to her from earlier. "But for now, take the flower…it suits you."

"What am I going to do with a flower?" she asked, raising her brows, her tone suddenly incredulous as slowly awareness began to take hold of her again. And taking a step back from him, she shook her head—she was looking for her son, she didn't have time for flowers and fairytales.

"A pretty flower for a pretty girl."

She bristled at his statement looking away from him fast. "Stop flirting…we have to get moving."

"You act as though you've never been given a flower before lass."

He spoke the words casually, but with them something painful shot through her, his words hitting her deeply as his comment resonated throughout her.

Because no one had ever offered her flowers before—she was nearly thirty and had never received a single rose or a simple daisy.

_Neal had never thought to do it._

And since him she had always just supposed she just wasn't the kind of girl who warranted flowers and candies—one-night stands usually didn't go so far as to send gifts. It was something that she had never really thought or cared about.

Until now.

Clearing her throat, she glanced back, watching as Mary Margaret and David steadily closed the distance between them, swatting away the sweat that had once again gathered on her brow.

"Pity, someone so fair should have been showered with gifts all her life."

His voice brought her attention back to him; there wasn't a trace of teasing in his tone, his expression thoughtful and serious.

He was reading her again.

"Is there a place we can sit down and rest for awhile?" She asked deliberately, changing the topic carefully, if he could avoid discussing certain subjects than so could she.

He stared at her a moment, his blue eyes searching hers, and stubbornly she held his stare—like always she hesitated to give him the upper hand.

"Further up this way, just beyond those trees." He said quietly after a short and lingering silence. With an odd little smile and a tilt of his head he held her eyes a moment longer—something terrifying and meaningful pulsing between them gently before finally he looked away.

And turning from her, he let the flower drop to the ground, her heart clenching a bit and her eyes burning hotly as she watched the blue petals flutter and float to the shining dirt of the forest floor, the tale of a distressed and weeping mother and the lost and abandoned son turned forest king whispering softly in her head as she began to follow him once more.

* * *

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_**I can promise, cookies, flowers, ice cream, ponies, and more intimate Hook and Emma moments if you do. Okay well I can only promise one of those but still...**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the delay again. Family stuff. But hey here's the chapter.**

**Also, FSJFKSJDKFDSKDFSKDFS! because your reviews! They blow me away and no joke make my day. THANK YOU!**

**And just an FYI, I promise that after this chap. we will be getting into more of the juicy stuff.**

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**Stuff.**

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* * *

They had to start moving again…soon.

The sky was gradually darkening—the clear blue fading to a light slightly ominous looking purple.

A tingling prickle danced up her spine slowly, warning her to stay focused. Something in the back of her mind whispered for her to keep her guard up—reminding her of the threats that hid in and beyond the heavy trees. After all, how many times since stepping foot on the soft green ground had she had the irritating mantra repeated to her?

Dangerous, dark, deadly…Neverland.

_Fucking Neverland._

Resting against the trunk of a large tree, Emma sighed softly as she eyed the clearing around her, her gaze falling on a group of pretty blue _weeping lilies_—the story Hook had told her earlier still haunting her thoughts.

Peter Pan, pixies, mermaids, and magic.

It was something that had the lost girl in her still crying out, wondering what had happened to the enchanted place he had spoken of, longing for the Neverland of old to return to its former glory.

_A child's dream._

Continuing to scan the area, she watched as Mary Margaret tentatively sat on an old and rotting log with David standing stoically at her side offering her bites of the fruit he was eating as the two spoke quietly in softly hushed tones. Occasionally glancing up, his gaze darted around cautiously, eyes both guarded and alert; he too, seemed to be awaiting some sort of attack from an unknown threat—he appeared almost as uncomfortable as Emma felt. They _were_ standing out in the open after all, Gold's offer for a protection spell having been shot down by Hook, the only explanation he had given simply being the less magic they used the better—imploring the group with a lazy grin and a shrug of his shoulders to save their "tricks" for nightfall.

_Until then they were a bunch of goddamned sitting ducks. _

The_ C__aptain's_ assurances that they were safe—for now—did little to calm her nerves, as the eerie sounds and sights of the forest continued to unnerve her, rattling her cage and putting her on edge while simultaneously sharpening her senses.

Hook had deemed the area clear shortly after he had halted the rest of them in their weary tracks, demanding they not take another step. Moving forward, he had slashed through some allegedly dangerous and poisonous shrubs—their leaves large and bristly, the bushes had sprouted from the ground, creating a less than formidable appearing wall on the outskirts of the small alcove they had stumbled upon. The stems leaking with a bright yellow, stomach-churning sap, he had tossed the remnants into the forest, a somewhat disturbed look crossing his features as he rid the group of the potential threat. When David had inquired about the plant, asking what had been so bad about it, the pirate had vaguely mentioned something about triggered thorns, paralysis, and death—his usually careless tone grim, his eyes appearing wary. And it was with the ominously delivered revelation that the rest of them had shifted uncomfortably; all clearly suspicious of what else might lurk behind the trees.

_Fucking Neverland._

Uncorking her leather canteen, Emma brought it to her lips, greedily indulging in the water she'd been carefully saving, her dry and parched throat nearly resisting the refreshing liquid—it had been too long since she had last allowed herself a cool sip. Getting up suddenly, she pushed away from the tree; slowly she began to walk across the shaded area, completely aware of her parent's ever-searching eyes as she passed them by with only a tight smile and a mere nod of her head—she hadn't the time to reassure them that she wasn't on the brink of losing control. Idly walking past Gold, she paid little attention as he raised his head towards her, a question on his lips and sorrow reflecting in his eyes. Instead with a sigh and a suppressed scowl she continued on, finally coming to a stop by Regina's side. The dark haired woman stood with her back to the group, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes searching the forest.

"Miss Swan." the fallen mayor murmured the words softly, her tone holding a hint of boredom coupled with a slight glimmer of disdain.

Nodding at her, Emma drew a step closer. Her gaze flitting out to the trees, she said nothing, simply stared blankly, feeling somewhat uncomfortable standing in the less than companionable silence. But not really caring too much whether the other woman wanted her company or not, she stood her ground firmly, attempting to find the right words, trying to figure out where to start. She needed an ally—someone to give her the cold hard facts. And maybe even more importantly, she needed someone who understood her fears and concerns—who was just as desperate to find Henry as she was. Unfortunately for her, that person just also happened to be the goddamned Evil Queen of myth and legend—the woman who had spent the past twenty-eight years plus doing everything in her power to ensure her family's unhappiness, including keeping her from her son.

"Can I help you with something?" Regina asked after a moment or two, turning her head, she arched a sharp brow, watching as Emma tore her gaze away from the woods.

"I—I need to know what your take is on this place?"

"Excuse me?"

"On Neverland. Tell me what your take is."

"I believe everything we need to know about Neverland has been made abundantly clear."

"Yeah but I want to know what _you_ think. How deep are we?"

Curiosity shining in her dark gaze, Regina tilted her head to the side. Studying Emma briefly, her eyes searched hers, flickering across her face, before finally she sighed—the sound echoing with slight resignation. "Why are you asking me?"

Stepping even closer Emma furrowed her brow, shooting her a somewhat incredulous look.

_Wasn't it obvious?_

"Because you love Henry." When Regina said nothing at that, remaining irritatingly silent, Emma let her gaze drift down to the ground, her eyes falling on the sparkling dirt as a ray of sun broke through the leaves. And staring at it hard she continued, her voice, while low was unwaveringly firm. "Because he's your son too. Because you will do whatever it takes to ensure his safety. Because you've been around magic almost all your life. You're familiar with it, you're comfortable with it." Raising her head she met Regina's stare once again, and letting her guard down for a moment, she allowed the other woman to see, truly see, the desperation and vulnerability she felt churning within her. "Because as much as I hate to admit it I'm a little out of my element here. So I'm asking you…_I'm telling you_…I need your help…what's your take on this damned place?"

Giving her a hard and appraising look, Regina held her stare before, with a tiny frown and a slight nod; she looked away, her shoulders drooping slightly with the action. "It's powerful. Everything Hook and Gold have been saying is true. I can feel it." Turning her gaze back to Emma, she raised a delicately arched brow, "If you allowed yourself to you'd be able to pick up on it as well. There are better, more beneficial, ways to channel your desperation Miss Swan." Letting the words hang heavily between them Regina smirked slightly before speaking again. "Neverland's magic is different, which, as I had alluded to you the other day, is why our magic seems somewhat faulty. Its aura is strong yes…but it feels…_off."_ Shaking her head, she looked up, over Emma's shoulder to Gold—her features shadowed with slight confusion. "Gold says the magic here is diluted…it used to be more powerful…purer…maybe even good. The Shadow, that _creature _that Hook keeps muttering about is rumored to be the source of its evil…legend has it, it stole Neverland's purity, leaving it the hopeless and hollow place it is today. How your ex's fiancé and a boy from my past are connected to _it _or this land and why they would take Henry here…well, your guess is as good as mine." Shrugging she laughed softly, the sound slightly maniacal. "If you think you're out of your element here then join the club. None of us were prepared for any of this."

_Back to square one._

Frowning, Emma turned her words over in her mind; she had figured as much, the haunted look in both Gold and Regina's eyes since disembarking the Jolly Roger had been unmistakable. But also aware of the power they possessed, the experience they had, she had been hoping, praying, that perhaps they knew something helpful, resourceful. Whispered talks of shadows, deadly plants, and killer lost children aside, she was searching for something to help her gain some footing in the unfamiliar place.

_Anything._

A slightly sardonic smile playing across her lips, she shook her head; the two most powerful and terrifying people she'd ever known were no better off than the rest of them—that couldn't bode well for anyone. And letting her gaze drift behind Regina, over Gold and past her parents, her eyes landed on Hook—the one person in the group who knew the dark secrets and the ins and outs of the place and people who held her son captive.

Leaning against a tree trunk, he held a dagger in his good hand; idly running the blade up and down the sharp pointed end of his hook with slow and purposeful movements. He appeared somewhat bored, almost relaxed—seemingly completely at ease. But it was his eyes and the rigidness of his posture, that gave him away. His gaze, alert and scanning, moved around the small area freely, taking everything in and watching their surroundings carefully. And as he scrutinized and studied, he stopped abruptly, his eyes landing on her suddenly. Catching her quite obviously staring, his lips tilted up into a somewhat salacious smirk, his head inclining in her direction in a mock regal nod.

Lips thinning to form a tight and straight line, she glanced away, ignoring the flip of her stomach as the heat of his stare continued to linger on her. "What about him?" Emma asked quietly, bringing her attention back to the woman at her side.

Regina turned slightly, running a manicured hand through her short hair, her eyes swept over the small group. "Who?"

"Hook."

A tiny flicker of contempt flashed in her eyes while slight disgust tugged at her sharp features, before, seemingly collecting herself, she schooled her expression into a look of calm indifference. "What about him?"

"Do you trust him?"

"No."

"Why?"

She wasn't sure why she was asking her, clearly there was some bad blood between the two; an obvious and telling fact that had Emma's gut clenching and her mind turning over while briefly considering the possibilities.

_Possibilities_ she'd really rather not think about.

"Hook and I have an…interesting past."

The cool voice broke her from her brief reverie, the ambiguous words resonating soundly in her brain—the possible meanings attached to the statement matched with the vague slightly scornful tone, causing her eyes to narrow fractionally.

"_Interesting_?" she hated the way her voice clung to the word in unmasked inquiry. Something inside her perked up at the sound—asking her why she cared, demanding an explanation for the sudden change in her heart rate, curious about the tensing of her already straight spine.

"Is that _jealous_y I detect Miss Swan?" Regina's smirk was as amused as it was condescending, a knowing gleam dancing in her nearly black gaze.

Rolling her eyes, cheeks flushing, heat dancing across her skin, and a voice in her head vehemently denying the accusation, Emma pursed her lips. "_Seriously_? I left the guy chained to a beanstalk, cuffed to a hospital bed, and locked in a closet. You really wanna go there?"

The anger laced within her tone couldn't be denied—whether directed at the queen, the pirate, or herself she wasn't entirely certain. Continuing to stare at her hard, Regina tilted her head downward slightly, almost as if graciously and without question accepting her words. But it was the way her eyes held hers—the gleam of dark almost vicious humor shining within them that told Emma she wasn't entirely convinced.

And for the briefest of moments, the shortest of seconds, she allowed herself to consider her supposed indifference towards the infuriating pirate—the man she was constantly leaving only to continually be followed by.

_The Enchanted Forest._

_Storybrooke._

_Manhattan._

_Neverland._

Why was he always finding her?

Why was something in her head gently whispering that maybe it _meant_ something?

Something big…_important._

"I simply don't trust him, and you shouldn't either."

Shaking herself and refocusing her disturbing thoughts, Emma considered Regina's softly spoken words—a small part of her protesting the statement. "Why?"

She shrugged, lifting a slim shoulder elegantly, her gaze shot towards the man in question; he was circling the perimeter now, his movements slow and graceful—the power in his stride sleek and stalking. "He's nothing more than a low-life villain…out for nobody but himself and his tiring revenge."

"Sounds familiar."

Apparently choosing to ignore the accusation in her tone, she continued on, "Tread carefully Miss Swan."

"He's helping us."

A humorless laugh escaped Regina's lips, a look of disbelief crossing her features. "The moment something better is offered to him, the moment his life is really and truly on the line…and I'm not talking about fishing a foolish woman out of the water or pointing out a few poisonous berries… " She trailed off with the words, shooting her a pointed, somewhat patronizing look before continuing, "I mean danger, real in the moment, life-threatening danger…make no mistake…his true colors will show once again. He's never been anything more than a villain…even before his run in with Rumpelstiltskin, he was a ruthless pirate. He's not a hero Miss Swan and he never will be."

_Villain._

_Hero._

What was the difference anyway?

The lines between them were so frustratingly blurred.

She was torn—part of her believing Regina, while another somewhat larger part was desperate to push her words aside, itching to believe there was more than villainy and evilness, to the man who had offered her his ship and his services—the haunting tale he had told her earlier resurfacing in her mind abruptly, hinting at things that could have been…things that still could be.

_Hope._

The tale fading away quickly, she was left grasping for meaning once again as she silently wondered about Hook's past, his connection to the land—a somewhat humored voice scolding her for being dense, urging her to just go ahead and put two and two together already.

_He grew up._

And watching as Regina made a move to walk away, Emma reached out suddenly, placing firm but gentle fingers on her arm she stopped her, dropping her hand when she flinched backwards at her light touch.

"He came back…_for us._ He risked his life not knowing that we had already saved the town. _He came back_…doesn't that count for something?"

As she spoke the words, almost unwillingly she allowed herself to silently muse over the fact that not only a day ago it had been Mary Margaret trying to convince her of the same thing.

Maybe she was gradually willing to let her guard down little by little if it meant helping to get her son back faster.

"So desperate to see the good in him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The question was mocking, Regina's tone haughty.

"Because I'm sick of only seeing the bad in people."

For a moment uncertainty sparked in the mayor's unblinking gaze, her features softened slightly, the contempt melting away briefly. Her eyes never leaving her face, Emma watched as she frowned, her mouth dipping down deep—an internal battle clearly warring within her as Emma's words rang between them. And then, almost as suddenly as the obvious doubt appeared, with a simple shrug of her shoulders and a quick tilt of her lips, she shook her head, her expression becoming cold once more.

"Maybe his return with the bean meant something…maybe it didn't. Frankly I don't know and I don't really care. He's a means to an end. If he has knowledge that can be useful in finding Henry then unfortunately he's worth keeping around…no matter how badly I'd like to see him fed to the crocodiles." Shooting her gaze towards Hook, she spoke again slowly, carefully. "But I suggest you heed my advice…watch your back around him. Show of goodness or not…he's not to be trusted. No good will come from letting your guard down. We both want the same thing. Don't risk ruining our chance at finding Henry because you're unsure about the inherent goodness of a pirate who would more than likely see you run through with his sword if it served his own selfish purposes. Until he proves otherwise…he's a useful tool in retrieving Henry and nothing else. But mark my words my dear, the minute he steps out of line then all bets are off."

And with the warning lingering in the air between them, the conversation clearly over, she turned from Emma and walked away, pointedly heading in the direction of Gold without so much as a backwards glance.

Sighing Emma closed her eyes, brushing a loose sweat soaked strand of hair off her face, she considered Regina's advice, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that had settled low inside her gut as the heavy implications about Hook and his character continued to echo quietly in her head.

She was conflicted—completely and utterly at a loss.

And she didn't know why.

Regardless if he had come back, despite the fact that he was helping her find her son; after all he had done, everything he had said, she really didn't owe Hook anything—her loyalties, her sympathies, her support.

_Nothing._

Still…

Unable to stop herself, unwilling to resist the temptation, she found her gaze drifting up, searching, looking, seeking, the man whose intentions still left her puzzled, his ever-changing behavior continuing to confuse her.

What was his goal?

Redemption?

Revenge?

Something else?

_Something more?_

It _should _have surprised her more than it did to find him, only a few yards away, looking in her direction.

Watching.

Waiting?

But it didn't.

Holding his stare for a moment longer than necessary, she tried to block out the racing thoughts that danced around in her head while attempting to pin down her stance on him and his unclear goals—her gut, heart, and head all demanding vastly different things of her.

_Flee, stay, accept, doubt._

His mouth quirking upwards into a tiny self-assured smile, his vivid blue stare continued to burn hotly into hers. And clearly refusing to look away, he raised a brow, silently challenging her to do the same.

_What did he want?_

Finally, tearing her gaze away from his, she shook her head ever so slightly and resisting the pull that annoyingly nagged her to chance a look back at him, she headed towards her parents—it was time to collect their things and get moving again. Unforgiving heat or not, they still had a few hours of daylight left to spare before the nocturnal creatures of Neverland came out to play.

And, refusing to look at him as she passed him by, she disregarded the pounding of her heart and the haziness of her vision while stubbornly pushing aside the tiny voice in her head that was still whispering softly—imploring to be heard while not so subtly urging her to open up, to let go of her misgivings…

_To trust._

* * *

"You doing okay?"

Glancing over as David came up beside her, Emma nodded, her eyes drifting to the sky as she continued to carefully pick her way over the gnarled roots and loose rocks that littered their path. The sky was continuing to grow dimmer; the day was quickly giving way to night.

"We need to stop soon, set up camp before it gets too dark." She stated in a brisk tone, the cricketing sounds around them which had been nothing more than a dull humming sound earlier in the day getting louder as the sunlight faded away. .

Turning slightly, David shot his gaze over his shoulder; Mary Margaret and Regina had fallen into step beside each other, the tension between the two practically rolling off of them in radiating waves. Gold, still hanging even further back, continued to keep careful and vigilant watch, his increasing limp suggesting he was struggling to maintain pace.

"Regina and Gold will try to cast a protection spell once we stop."

"So I've been told."

Smirking, at her flat tone, David shrugged. "Supposedly it'll prevent anything from entering or leaving the enchanted area, a barrier of sorts. Nothing comes in, nothing goes out. Not a bad deal in a place like this."

"Suppose so…let's just hope none of us get caught on the wrong side."

Watching her footing as they made their way up a slight incline, Emma merely raised a brow when David offered her his hand, his noncommittal sigh softening her features in slight shame as she continued on without his help—the mud at her feet coating her boots in a thick dusty layer as she carefully trudged through it.

She hadn't a clue how Hook even knew where they were going, which way was right and which was wrong. Everything looked the same, the vibrant plants and squawking wildlife all blurring together in an unfocused haze.

Hell for all she knew he could be leading them in a never-ending circle.

"What's he say?"

Turning her head at David's question, she shot him an inquiring look, and following his line of vision, she furrowed her brow when she saw he was staring ahead at Hook—a hint of a glower coarsening his features.

Confused, she raised an eyebrow. "Hook? What do you mean?"

"Does he know where we are? Where we should stop? How far out we are from finding the Picaninny? We're putting an awful lot of faith in this guy."

"You could talk to him you know. Ask him yourself."

The answering disproving laugh that passed by David's lips had her eying him wearily.

"I'd rather not."

"You two need to get over whatever the hell hang-ups you have. Like it or not, right now we're a team."

Stubbornly, she pushed aside the laughing voice in her head that was taunting her to take her own advice.

"I don't trust him."

Thinking back to her earlier conversation with Regina, Emma frowned, her eyes drifting to Hook as he steadily and gracefully moved through the trees, disappearing out of sight. "Get it line." She murmured softly. And ignoring the muffled snort of accord from David, she concentrated once again on the darkening forest, too tired to inform him that she hadn't been talking about herself.

Besides, she still wasn't sure what she felt in terms of trust and appreciation.

It was a subject she wasn't looking to broach anytime soon.

_If ever._

"I overheard Hook mention to Gold that we are approximately two days or so out from the Picaninny's tribal grounds." She answered his earlier question tentatively; disregarding the too many voices in her head that were still whispering about things she'd rather not think about—trust, acceptance, hidden identities.

_Love, loss, anger, betrayal. _

It was all too much.

And quite frankly she was sick of it.

She just wanted her son back. Regardless of what her mind, her heart, her gut, were stubbornly trying to tell her—the annoying messages they were trying to get across—she refused to concern herself with anything other than her kid's well-being.

"Hey."

Swallowing over the sudden tightening in her throat as disturbing thoughts of Henry's whereabouts crept into her head; she glanced over at David—the look of concern and compassion on his face unmistakable. And placing his hand on her arm, he stopped her before she could brush him off—the light pressure of his fingers softening her resolve as her annoyed glare turned into an expression that was reluctantly expectant and just shy of hopeful.

"We're gonna find him Emma."

With the simple words, understanding and unwavering determination flashed across his features—features so similar to her own—and quickly she found her will to close herself off weakening fast as she allowed him a soft and tentative smile. At that moment no matter what the stubborn part of her was cruelly trying to remind her—_she'd been alone, completely on her own for the past twenty-eight years, with no parents to guide her, no one to take care of her_—she couldn't help but see the father figure she had so longed for when growing up. And with the gentle wistful thought, the narrowing in her throat grew tighter and her lips quivered fractionally.

"Finding your family is kinda in your blood…just ask your mother."

_Family._

It was still such a strange concept.

Despite feeling somewhat uncomfortable, her years of practiced detachment protesting the tender familial moment, she couldn't help her tremulous smile from widening slowly.

"I know."

And at her simple acknowledgment, David, _her father_, held her stare, almost hesitantly smiling back as her words lingered in the air between them—the slightest hint of sorrow marring his grin.

"Well for as much as I hate to impose on this heartwarming father and daughter moment, I do believe I've found us a suitable place to rest for the night…my apologies in advance for the less than hospitable amenities _your majesties_."

Glancing up, she saw Hook walking leisurely, hand on the hilt of his sword, he made his way over to them, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that David was glaring at him hard—his stance straightening to threatening and protective as the pirate continued his path towards them. Flickering his eyes past Mary Margaret, who was coming up to stand beside them with Regina and Gold not far behind, Hook's gaze focused in on Emma—his expression both haughty and amused. And feeling embarrassed that he had caught her in a state of slight vulnerability, she straightened her spine and readied herself with an icy glare, determined for him not to see her as weak. But it was the softness in his gaze, the understanding glimmering in the blue of his eyes, that had her pausing for a moment, confusion swimming inside of her.

It was those blatant clear as day looks, masked only by the suggestions in his tone and the brashness of his actions that constantly had her questioning him.

"There's a heavily shaded area less than half a league away. The trees will hide us from the view of whatever might lurk in the night sky."

_The Shadow._

"My suggestion is we make camp there for tonight. Despite whatever spell is cast I believe it would be wise if we slept in shifts."

The plan sounded fair enough to her, and glancing over at her mother, Emma watched as Mary Margaret nodded once, indicating for the rest of them to go ahead and follow Hook once again. Sighing softly, Emma moved forward first, anxious to get going, her body more tired than she'd care to admit to. And falling into step beside him, she rolled her eyes when he looked over at her—his grin arrogant and devious, his roaming stare twinkling with mirth.

"If you'd like darling, I can always offer my services to help keep you warm. For as hot as Neverland gets during the day, nightfall hidden beneath the trees can be an altogether different story."

"Not a chance in hell buddy."

"You wound me Swan, I'm merely trying to be helpful…I'd be more than happy to share my body heat with you…for the sake of keeping warm of course. Although..." Looking her up and down, his eyes shining with hints of unapologetic hunger, he ran his tongue over his lower lip in a way that had her entire body going hot—embarrassment, and the beginnings of something else too foreign to place, stirring within her. "If you'd like to partake in other, more pleasurable activities I certainly wouldn't be adverse to it."

And ignoring David's low growl and livid curse, followed by Hook's deeply amused chuckle, she disregarded the slight scuffle at her back, curious whether it was Mary Margaret attempting to hold David back or the other way around.

Maybe it was for the best they hadn't been around during her teenage years.

And keeping up with the man at her side, she pushed away the turbulent feelings he had unknowingly awoken inside of her, concentrating instead on the sudden dull achiness in her legs as the desire for sleep continued to drive her forward, her heavy eyes almost weeping with the notion as exhaustion slowly began to blanket her body.

"I've decided to take first watch Swan. The night gets lonely, I wouldn't mind the company..."

Tuning out the rest of his words, positive that the following innuendo would most likely fall somewhere between embarrassing and infuriating, Emma shook her head while keeping her eyes decidedly forward.

And at that moment, with Hook chatting cordially by her side, a light and companionable tone lacing his voice and his plan to take first watch newly revealed, she was fairly certain she'd fight anyone willing to challenge her for the rights to the first sleep shift.

Whether it was because she was desperate to keep her distance from him or because she was just _that_ tired, was something she was unwilling to consider too closely.

* * *

Her body had never felt so stiff and sore, her vision, having been diligently focused all day was blurry—her eyes were stinging and heavy.

She couldn't remember ever being so tired.

Even after a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, her body protested her wakefulness.

Shifting her dagger from one hand to the other, Emma moved about the camp slowly, hesitantly—her footsteps soundless, her breathing slightly heavy and somewhat erratic. Darkness had fallen hours ago, the beasts that prowled in the dark were seemingly watching; waiting for those more unfamiliar and less ferocious to unwittingly cross their paths. Taking in the sight of the shadowed trees around her, she squinted hard, attempting to see more clearly—the glowing eyes from the things that lived and lurked within the branches stared back at her unblinkingly, daring her to step outside the confines of their tiny protected enclosure—the sight sending a chill up her spine.

Watching as David circled around the area where Mary Margaret lay, his silver sword gleamed in the moonlight as he held it tightly at his side—his body tense as if awaiting an impending battle. Drifting her gaze past the couple and over to Regina, she saw that the woman was slumped up against a large boulder. Dozing lightly, she occasionally flinched and murmured unintelligible words in her sleep—her restless actions causing Emma to wonder about what exactly she was seeing in her dreams. Was she haunted by memories of the past, or tortured by visions of what was to come? Briefly allowing her eyes to land on Gold, she paid careful attention, watching as he checked the strength of the protection enchantment that had been cast, his arms out in front of him, he swept his hands over the invisible wall, a nearly radiating force bouncing back at him.

Hearing a low growl in the trees, her heart picked up slightly, her grip on her dagger tightening. Morbidly curious about the thing that had made the sound, she frowned as hideous images of ugly creatures flashed in front of her eyes—the scenes coming from a mixture of her own misguided imagination and a healthy dose of the late night cheesy horror films she had always found herself drawn to as an outsider kid. Scowling at both the thought and the unsettling pictures of monsters with fangs dripping in blood, she narrowed her eyes—after everything she'd been through she wasn't going to be torn to shreds by a bunch of hungry animals that was for damned sure.

Turning from the group Emma made her way towards the back of the camp and drawing her attention upwards, she watched as the leaves moved softly in the cool night breeze, their shifting providing a quick glimpse of the brilliantly lit sky every so often.

It was a sight she hoped that Henry was able to appreciate.

_Wherever he was_.

She couldn't help but pray that the beauty and serenity of the enchanted sky soothed him—perhaps the breathtaking sight was helping to chase away his fears, maybe the wonder and awe of it was giving him faith. And with the comforting thought, on a sudden whim, she closed her eyes, and calming her mind, she wished, if only for a second, that she could send a message to him, reassuring him that she was there. That she was fighting. And as something pure and powerful coursed its way through her, she concentrated hard, calming her breathing and focusing her mind.

_I'm here. I'm coming._

"Regina!"

At the sound of Gold's shouted and frantic voice, Emma's eyes snapped open and turning quickly, she watched with a dim sense of curiosity and the faintest hint of panic, as he walked towards the sleeping woman fast. With the filtering moonlight streaming down, she just barely saw the deep frown that pulled at his features—something harsh slipping past his lips as he mumbled low under his breath. And with a slice of fear cutting up her spine, her eyes widened and her pulse began to race when he unsympathetically woke her up with a rough and demanding shake. Had she not been so confused, so afraid of what possibly could have gotten the normally unflinching man in such an agitated state, she would have found Regina's deep and surprised gasp, followed by the string of muttered profanities, somewhat amusing.

But unfortunately for her, and the rest of them, whatever had Gold worked up was most likely no laughing matter.

Something was wrong...very wrong.

Whether he was gesturing to what lay beyond the camp or the invisible enchantment that was supposed to be protecting them, she couldn't be certain—his movements were wild, his words indecipherable.

He was scared.

Watching as Regina jumped to her feet and rushed forward seemingly without question, something bright and green sparking from her fingertips, her heart sank as the prospect of their barrier faltering registered within her. If their magic, the wall that was protecting them from the creatures that prowled outside of it, wasn't holding; then basically that meant only one thing…

_They were fucked._

Making a move to step forward, intent on finding out what was going on, Emma paused when she heard the sound of a twig snapping directly behind her, the noise stopping her as her body stilled, her eyes growing big. Tensing, quickly realizing she had the disadvantage to whatever threat lurked at her back, she shifted her grip on her weapon. And gathering her wits, without another thought, she made a move to turn—her blood running cold when an arm grasped her around the waist, halting her efforts and stilling her actions.

_Trapped. _

As she was yanked backwards in one swift and harsh movement, her back pulled flush against a hard decidedly male chest, she swore violently under her breath, ignoring the warning bells ringing in her head and the clawing fear that was threatening to paralyze her—her will to fight colliding with the urge drop in defeat. Pushing away her terror, she struggled as best she could in the unyielding grip, her feet stumbling, searching for purchase, as she was dragged away from the group—her parent's attention focused on Regina and Gold as they each seemingly hurled different spells at the camp's perimeter.

Opening her mouth to yell out to them, frantic to gain their attention, she cringed, internally cursing as a rough and callused hand came up covering her mouth and muffling her shouts. Her frustration and anger overriding her fear, she raised her dagger blindly, attempting to twist out of the firm grasp—the hold on her waist tightening with the movement, something sharp and pointed pressing into her side.

"Hell Swan, will you hold still!"

_Hook._

Even hushed, the accented voice was unmistakable.

Fury making its way through her, she pushed back against him, trying to break free. Stomping down hard on his foot, a thrill of satisfaction rushed through her fast when she heard him curse quietly at the bruising contact. The need to turn in his arms, to bury her fist in his face, simmered in her veins, even as the more rational side of her attempted to speak up, urging her to figure out what he was doing—what it was he was after. Pushing back against him again, she heaved a sigh against the palm of his hand, wincing when he grunted angrily before punishingly tightening his hold on her once more.

"Darling as much as I'm enjoying this little dance...now is not the time nor the place. Although keep moving like that, and I'll be forced to re-consider."

Infuriated by his words, she attempted to elbow him in the gut, the pressing of his hook into her side forcing her to stop just short while concurrently drawing an undignified yelp from her covered lips.

"If you want to keep that pretty little head of yours intact I suggest you stop…_now._"

Still tense , still angry, still confused, she clenched her jaw and straightened her spine defiantly at his raggedly ordered demand.

"I swear to the gods Emma…I'm not going to hurt you. I'm trying to bloody save you."

His voice was barely above a whisper, the seriousness in his tone heavily outweighing his earlier salacious suggestions, and the too familiar feel of his touch.

And with his imploring words, his obvious plea, she froze, taking a moment to calm herself with deep and steadying breaths. Relaxing slightly, she attempted to reign in her anger. The fight draining out of her, she willed herself to listen, to give him a chance to explain himself…

_To trust._

"That's a good girl."

Narrowing her eyes, her body still flushed against his, she twisted her head to the side, a lump forming in her throat when her gaze met his. It was easy to find even in the black and dangerous darkness that blanketed them; the blue of his stare was like a brightly lit beacon drawing her in. Holding his eyes for a tense-filled moment, she just barely made out the fear that was shining back at her in his unwavering gaze. And tilting her head to the side, she silently questioned him, demanding he give her answers to her unspoken inquiries.

Unfortunately they were interrupted before he could speak.

The rustling noises that suddenly encircled them, the blur of movements just beyond a handful of nearby bushes, followed by the low and ominous sound of one purring growl, quickly followed by another, and then another had her eyes shooting from him to the forest and then back to him again—the alarm in her gaze reflected back at her in his vibrant blue stare. Watching as he lifted his head, his eyes darting around them rapidly, he dropped his hand away from her mouth, quickly moving it to the sword at his side. And registering his movements her own hand tightened on her dagger, her attention filtering back to the trees as something that bordered on slight disbelief threatened to overtake her—an almost hysterical voice in head cursing the gods above as she watched glowing eyes quickly followed by a long and monstrous body step into the dim and muted moonlight.

_A werewolf on steroids._

Its fur was a light gray, its features large and dog-like—she dared not to move as its unblinking, nearly white eyes, focused in on them hungrily. Adrenaline rushing through her body fast, she bit the inside of her cheek as it bared its sharp and pointed teeth, before slowly, lithely, moving past the edge of their supposedly protected circle.

"It seems, darling, that our magic tricks have run out." Hook's voice breathed the words into her ear hotly, his grip on her still firm.

And before she could comment, before she could even think, she watched in horror as three more creatures moved out of the shadows, stepping behind the first one. Their teeth just as sharp, their eyes just as terrifying, the large wolves moved together fluidly, closing in on them slowly

"The beasts are hungry sweetheart and unfortunately for us they like to hunt in packs."

* * *

_**So I know I just wrote about some beast attacking Emma and Hook in Rain Falls but...**_

_**A.) This little scene will not be ending the same way.**_

_**and **_

_**B.) I like hungry wolf-like creatures in Neverland okay.**_

_**Again, things will be picking up between Emma and Hook soon. Hang with me.**_

_**Reviews are rainbows and sunshine, puppy-dogs and daffodils.  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for the delay in updating! For those who follow me on tumblr you know I've had to do some traveling, had a funeral to attend, a birthday, and some crazy guests amongst a handful of other stuuuuuuuufffffff. **

**But thanks for your patience. **

**And as always I appreciate your feedback so so so so so so soooooo much!**

**Thank you.**

**Dislcaimer: I don't own OUAT.**

* * *

It was funny; all her life Emma had faced monsters, _human_ real life monsters, of nearly every shape and size. She had both willingly and unwillingly rubbed elbows with the greasiest, slimiest, foulest people the planet had to offer. She had grown up shamed, unloved, and unwanted—living in rundown neighborhoods where rape and murder had kept young and old alike, both male and female, locked behind closed doors once the sun went down.

She had seen the lowest mankind had to offer.

Up until recently she had thought that _people_ were the real monsters of the universe—greed, anger, and corruption running their lives.

But unfortunately, at the moment, she couldn't help but think that maybe, after all she had recently seen and done, it was time to rethink her definition of the word _monster._

Staring at the snarling and foamed mouth beasts that stood before her, their hind legs crouched low, their heads pointed straight, white eyes glowing and glaring right at her, she blew out a soft and shaky breath. These things, these freaking wolves on steroids, were hungrily watching her, _waiting_, seeing her as a nothing more than a creature to be ripped to shreds and shared for dinner—leaving what remained of her body mixed in with the shining pixie-dust laced dirt. Swallowing thickly at the gruesome thought, she made a move to step back—the unyielding pressure of Hook's chest pressed up against her, reminding her she was still somewhat firmly trapped in his tight embrace.

"Don't move just yet," he murmured the words softly in her ear, his voice low, just barely above a whisper, breathed across her skin. And not in the mood to argue with him, she nodded silently, involuntarily tensing when he moved the hand holding his sword towards her free one.

"Take my sword."

"What?"

"I've two blades at my side and a hook for a hand darling take my sword…would be a pity if we didn't at least attempt a good fight."

"No…I can't...I have my dagger I'm—"

A snarl interrupted her whispered protests, the sound sending a cold shiver of fear dancing across her skin as she watched what assumedly was the alpha-male step forward again while licking its chops—stringy clear saliva hanging from the corners of its mouth and clinging to the sharpened point of its fang-like teeth.

"Take the sodding sword Emma."

Too afraid to argue any further with him, her eyes still on the growling animal, she moved her hand ever so slightly, her fingers wrapping around the hilt tightly. And as she grasped it, she felt his fingers brush against the back of her hand, his touch feather light, barely there, dusting across her skin softly.

She could have sworn the gentle caress was meant to be reassuring.

"Not quite yet darling, stay still."

His voice snapped her out of her brief trance, and realizing that she had begun to raise the weapon, she halted in her movements.

"When?" she breathed the words back, nearly flinching when the pack continued to snarl low while drooling excessively. They were clearly hungry and she couldn't help but wonder if the animals were toying with them, purposely drawing out their impending attack. And at the disturbing thought, a thin sheen of sweat broke out across her brow, her blood ran through her fast, the sounds around them fading away to a dull roaring in her ears as she attempted to grasp the gravity of their situation.

"Gather your bearings. That's a good lass. Now I'm going to push you away from me. The moment we move, they'll move. Be prepared to attack."

"Hook…"

"No. Don't over think it sweetheart…swing the blade to kill, don't hesitate."

"I'm not—"

But he didn't allow her the chance to finish.

Before she was ready, before she had given herself the proper time to prepare, he pushed her away from him, propelling her backwards, away from the beasts and behind him in one quick and calculated movement. Immediately she heard the wolves roar to life—a fast blur of teeth, fur, and limbs shot off to her right, the sound of Hook's muffled shout hitting her straight in the gut. But before she could focus on him entirely, her attention was abruptly distracted as her eyes darted back out in front of her, her gaze widening and a scream lodging itself in her throat as she watched through hazed vision as one of the beasts charged towards her fast—its teeth gleaming in the moonlight, its vicious growl ringing in her ears.

_She was going to die._

Raising her sword, she let out a furious yell and running towards it with her blade ready to strike she swore loudly as it lunged towards her with death and hunger shining in its eerie gaze—her mouth dropping slightly when it fell back harshly, one yelp escaping it and then another when a single arrow lodged itself deep in its neck, another implanting itself in its back.

Glancing behind her she watched as Mary Margaret prepared to shoot another arrow, her gaze beyond Emma she saw her bow was directed towards where Hook stood facing off the larger of the wolves—the other beasts attention distracted by David as he ran towards them fast and Regina and Gold as they shot spells after spell towards the failing barrier. Shaking herself, Emma looked back at the beast Mary Margaret had shot, watching as it struggled to its feet with faltered and labored movements. Biting her lip, she gripped her weapon and without further thought ran at it fast, wincing and screaming out as her sword sliced through fur, hide, and bone—the sound of the deep anguished wail which escaped the animal so human-like that she nearly dropped her sword in shock.

Her stomach heaving slightly, her breath coming out erratically, she stepped back from the fatally wounded animal, watching as its blood mixed in with the dirt, the beast twitching and groaning as its life slowly seeped out of it in a dark pool of red. Feeling sick she backed up slowly, her eyes barely able to take in the sights of the battle around her—her vision was so foggy, her focus unclear. Mary Margaret and David were concentrating on one wolf—several arrows already buried into its hide. Regina and Gold were still furiously shooting spells into the air, seemingly desperate to get their protective wall up again.

And Hook…

She swallowed, a sinking feeling settling in her gut…Hook was nowhere to be seen. Her eyes scanning the area frantically, Emma began to walk towards her parents fast—curious if they had seen what had happened to him, disregarding the cruel images that played in her head as she thought about the different scenarios that could have taken place while her attention had been diverted—visions of Hook being dragged off into the woods and ripped apart by teeth and claws causing a shudder to ripple through her fast as bile rose up in her throat. And raising her eyes, she fuzzily watched as David delivered the final blow to the animal that lay sprawled out on the ground before him, continuing to attempt to block out the gruesome images of the pirate captain being eaten alive by the hungry and fearsome beasts.

It was too much to even consider.

Taking another step she raised her sword while tucking her dagger into her belt, her eyes warily on the lookout for more wolves, her brain still cruelly taunting her with grisly scenes. At the sound of her approach, Mary Margaret glanced up quickly, her eyes softening from the hardened look of a warrior to one of a relieved yet concerned mother—worry, distress, and fear clearly stamped across her delicate features as she began to move towards her fast, lessening the gap between them. And knowing she needed to hear it, Emma opened her mouth to assure her mother she was unharmed, the words getting caught in her throat as she watched Mary Margaret stop suddenly, back up and walk towards her again, only to stop abruptly once more—confusion furrowing her brow, her eyes going wide with obvious disbelief, as the hand that wasn't carrying her bow splayed out in front of her before curling into a tightly clenched fist.

And as she watched, a heavy ball of dread began to form in Emma's gut.

Slowly Mary Margaret began to pound at the air in hard and jarring strikes, her hand seemingly hitting nothing, as abruptly she began to scream—loud anguished curses falling from the other woman's lips as her hand beat hard against what looked like a harmless wall of air. And with slight fascination Emma watched as David came to a halt beside her, his eyes colliding with hers, shock and horror marring his features when he realized there was an invisible force separating them.

The barrier.

_No one goes in, no one goes out. _

"Regina! Gold!" Mary Margaret screamed their names, panic woven into her voice as her eyes held Emma's over the space between them. "Take this down now!"

Turning her focus to Regina, she watched as something odd flickered over her features—brief indecision, slight hesitation, and unspoken apology all warring across her face in a quick flash of unrelenting emotions.

"Take it down now. Please for the love of God do something!"

But Mary Margaret's frantic request fell on deaf ears as a low growl, followed by yet another deeper and longer one, drew everyone's attention away. And watching as two wolves stepped out of the woods, across from where she was standing, Emma felt her breath catch in her throat as they seemingly tested the barrier before them, an angry snarl escaping them when they realized they couldn't get to the group.

"Oh God," she whispered softly, her eyes pricking with stinging tears when she noticed that the larger of the two animals was limping slightly—something buried deep into its fur.

A dagger.

_Hook's dagger. _

Another low growl tore her gaze away from the beast's hide and watching as the wolves slowly made their way around the enchanted circle, testing its strength and checking for vulnerabilities, Emma tightened her grip on her sword. It would only be a few seconds before they realized that_ she _was left unprotected.

A mere lamb amongst the still hungry wolves.

Swinging her eyes back to her mother who stood frozen in place with her mouth dropped open slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking, she watched as pain crossed her features—the low and murmured sound of David threatening both Gold and Regina resonating in her head unnervingly

"Lift it now or so help me…" his quietly spoken anguished warning trailed off and fell unconvincingly flat.

Neither Gold or Regina seemed to be paying much attention anyway—they appeared dazed and drained, both physically and mentally. And seeing the weary looks on their pale faces, the small sliver of hope that something, _anything, _would save her from her inescapable death, faded. Emma knew in her gut that they wouldn't lift the barrier for her; that they wouldn't even try. Their magic, their strength had clearly taken a hit—Neverland exhausting them both and leaving them weak. With the barrier removed they stood as much of a chance as anyone else against the beasts. And she knew that while they were perhaps more than a little torn about leaving her to the wolves, they ultimately weren't going to risk those odds.

And strangely enough, she accepted their decision. _Henry._ They were giving themselves the best shot at surviving and finding Henry.

She wanted to hate them for it.

But she couldn't.

And gathering what was left of her courage she nodded once in Regina's direction—holding the other woman's dark stare for a brief moment, she silently and desperately implored her to find their son.

_To save him. _

And without giving herself a chance to think it through, without even sparring her parents one last look back…

She turned from the circle and ran.

The sound of Mary Margaret's anguished scream followed by the snarl and roars of the beasts faded behind her as she quickly dashed into the trees—her heart pounding fast, her eyes threatening to spill over with the tears that had humiliatingly and infuriatingly collected without her consent.

_She would not cry. _

Running as fast as her legs would carry her, she used her sword to slice through anything that blocked her path, her ears buzzing as the sounds of leaves rustling and twigs snapping overwhelmed the rest of her senses. And as she continued to move through the dense forest, the roaring pressure in her head became so loud that she couldn't tell if the noises around her were coming from her quick and clumsy movements or the animals that were presumably chasing her and gaining on her fast.

She refused to look back, certain that the moment she did her death would be sealed.

She wasn't exactly ready to die.

Not yet.

As the gnarled branches of the trees that drooped heavily above her clawed their way through her loosely bound hair, Emma pushed on, certain that at any moment a poisonous plant would shoot its triggered thorns into her skin or that the wolves would tackle her from behind—razor sharp claws digging into her back, teeth slicing through her flesh, blood spilling from her veins.

Muffling back an instinctive sob, her chest burning, and her eyes blurring, she sprinted faster, moving in zigzagged patterns in an attempt to both throw the animals off and avoid any other threats that lurked before her. Swinging her sword and cursing silently in her head, she ignored the tears that mockingly streaked hot down her cheeks and barreled forward—the sounds of Neverland: the screeching, howling, and crowing, echoing around her in dark waves.

She vehemently loathed the place—its cruelness knowing no bounds.

As she knocked another scrawny branch out of her way, coming into a partial clearing, vaguely she noticed with some slight awe a group of weeping lilies...seemingly glowing in the dim light of one of the land's many moons. The flowers trailed up a towering tree that loomed a few feet ahead of her, sporting large and fat sturdy-looking branches which beckoned to her, promising refuge.

_Security._

Without a second thought she bolted for the tree, sheathing her sword as she ran, part of her curious if wolves could climb, while another part urged her to _move_, screaming for her to run faster. Coming to a skidding halt in front of the tree, she reached up fast with somewhat shaky arms and swung herself up, her feet faltering slightly as they made contact with the rough bark of the branch she settled on. Faintly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement below her, just off to her right, and still not feeling safe, she reached higher. Her legs slipping and sliding as she continued to climb upwards with uneasy movements, her breaths coming out in huffing pants and growing louder as the sounds of snarling drifted up to her.

_Higher._

Moving up another branch, she swore as her grip faltered, and taking a moment to rest, she paused in her climbing.

_Breathe just breathe._

When she heard a scratching and clawing noise below her, she chanced a look down, a tight lump forming in her throat as she watched the larger wolf place its front paws on the trunk of the tree and push off of it with a menacing growl before circling it slowly—observing, studying, deciding.

_Damn._

Drawing her lower lip into her mouth, she settled herself on the branch she had stopped on, gaining her balancing with one had braced against the trunk while her other slowly unsheathed the sword from her belt. If the stupid things could climb she'd at least be waiting for them with a big old _fuck-you_ in the form of a blade to their goddamned snout. Allowing herself a wide maniacal grin at the thought while briefly wondering if she was completely losing it, she continued to watch as the animals paced around the tree—their teeth bared, their fur raised, their noses sniffing both the air and ground. Breathing in deeply and exhaling slowly, she tried her best to quiet her breathing, steady her heart, and calm her mind as the wolves stalked and growled below her. She was pretty sure she had once read somewhere that animals could sense fear.

Or was it evil?

Or was it both?

Either way, she figured it would be wise to attempt to compose herself—staying in her current state of fear and panic wouldn't help her in the least. And shifting her position, she paused abruptly as the beasts suddenly stilled in their movements, their bodies becoming stiff and rigid, their growling coming out even lower. And before she had the chance to process it, to even blink, they were taking off, darting around the tree she sat in and running away from her fast.

_What the hell?_

Staring blankly at the empty space below her, Emma tensed, waiting anxiously for the other shoe to drop. But empty and eerie silence was all that met her straining ears, darkness, lit only by the moon all that drifted up to her struggling eyes. Glancing around, her gaze darted from tree to tree, scanning back down to the ground, noting any brief rustling movements that swayed in the awaiting leaves and in the large bushes that adorned the forest.

But nothing happened.

No wolves.

No attack.

Sighing softly, her body still tense and waiting, her mind hazily and quickly caught up with her current situation.

She was safe…for now. But she was also alone, in a land that could easily kill her with one wrong step or tiny thoughtless movement.

She was completely out of sorts.

_She was still screwed. _

Shaking her head fast, almost as if to chase the annoying thought away, Emma hastily ran over her options in her brain, her skull pounding with the oncoming threat of a headache. She could stay in the tree; wait until daylight when things seemed safer and easier while hoping the wolves wouldn't come back for her. _Or _she could take her chances in the night. She could try to find her way back to Mary Margaret and David—attempt to convince Gold and Regina to remove the spell long enough for her to make it back into the circle…all the while risking the possibility of the wolves or _something else_ finding her in the process.

Her options sucked.

Closing her eyes briefly she leaned against the trunk, her mind racing, her heart still had yet to slow down. And it was as she was gritting her teeth, as the beginnings of anger started to take hold of her—pure unadulterated fury that she was even stuck in this situation in the first place simmering in her veins—that she heard the sound.

A yell.

A shout.

A voice that for some odd reason she was able to instantly place.

_Hook._

It was both alarming and disturbing—the relief that ran through her at the jarring realization that he was_ not_ dead.

Straightening on her branch, she listened intently, waiting for the sound again, and was rewarded almost immediately with a string of muffled curses followed by a dark mirthless laugh. He was nearby. Shifting, she glanced around her fast, her eyes landing on a blurred movement not too far below her perch, her gaze widening as she just barely made out his figure through the leafy barrier of the trees that separated them. Needing a better angle, she tightened her grip on her sword and moved up another branch, slipping a little as she worked to climb with only one free hand. Gaining more height she strained her eyes, and as she focused on him, she bit back a distressed gasp as she saw him staring down the larger of the two wolves that had been chasing her. The other lay not too far off on the ground—a dagger between its eyes, twitching as spasms shook through its body. And it was as she drank in the ominous sight, that something clicked in the back of her head slowly, resonating throughout her hauntingly.

"_Take my sword."_

"_What?"_

"_I've two blades at my side and a hook for a hand darling take my sword…would be a pity if we didn't at least attempt a good fight."_

She had seen one of his daggers buried into the hide of the same beast he now faced off against—the animal seemingly still intent on playing with its food as it growled and stalked him slowly. And with his other knife now lost to the corpse of the dying wolf on the ground...that left him with only his hook to defend himself.

"Shit." she whispered softly, her skin going hot with fear and dread for the man that was staring at his most likely imminent death. "Shit shit shit."

Quite suddenly she was at war with herself, part of her screaming for her to run, to climb down the tree and get the hell away from both Hook and the wolf as fast as her legs would take her. He would put up a struggle long enough for her to put some distance between them, giving her a fighting chance at finding the others and convincing them to lower the barrier. But it was as she considered the idea that her mind got the best of her—deep down inside she knew that his hook paled in comparison to the brute strength, claws and teeth of the animal that hunted him. With no other weapon he was a goner, his only option an unfair wrestling match with the hungry wolf. He would fight of that she was certain, because he was a survivor... but he would ultimately fail, even he wasn't _that_ invincible. Sure she would gain her precious time, possibly find the others—but all at the price of him being torn to shreds by the same beasts he had made sure to give her a chance at defeating.

It was a cruel fate.

But quite possibly her only chance.

What if she went to his aid and it was too late…what if the wolf killed them both?

Closing her eyes, Emma tried to think, tried to rationalize, tried to come up with a solution, all the while knowing she was wasting precious seconds with her indecisive stalling.

_She had a choice to make...she needed to choose_.

It was the sound of a pained shout and vicious bark that had her flinching and hurriedly moving without another thought. Swiftly she made her way back down the tree, her legs protesting as she dropped onto the ground at an awkward angle, her hands almost losing their grip on her sword…_his sword_…as she faltered for balance. And not giving herself a chance to over think it, she ran.

_Towards him._

Moving fast, breathing heavily she pushed her way into the woods, her heart clenching as her mind considered the very real possibility that she wouldn't make it in time…she had delayed for too long. Running through a group of bushes, disregarding the scratching branches and sticky leaves, she barely paid attention to a sharp pain that jolted her side. Her eyes focused in front of her, she tried to push away the worrying thoughts that she was too late, attempting to ignore the whispered voice in her head that taunted her with the possibility that she might stumble upon a gruesome and horrific scene.

The consequences of taking the chance to save him were a risk to her own life.

_What was she doing?_

With the sound of ferocious snarling and stifled curses echoing in her ears and growing louder, she burst forward with renewed and driving purpose. _They were not going to die. _Tearing through the thick greenery she ignored the somewhat radiating pain at her side. And pushing back the slither of fear at the feeling, she flailed and stumbled to an ungraceful halt; her eyes frantically seeking Hook out in the dark shadows of the night. And seeing him on the ground with his hook lodged into the neck of the wolf, his good arm protecting his throat as the animal still desperately tried to get to him, snapping and growling, livid fury roared to life inside of her.

Letting out a violent cry she ran towards the beast, her arms raised high above her head, gripping her weapon tightly as she sprinted forward fast. And without consideration, without thought, without hesitation she swung her sword down hard, the sound and feel of the blade slicing and maiming both nauseating and satisfying—the gruesome noises that followed bringing a disgusted grimace to her lips.

The sound of the beast dying was guttural, painful, and final.

And as she took in the ghastly and vile sight of her sword glistening with blood and the dirt flooding crimson, a sick thrill shot throughout her.

Chest heaving, hands shaking, Emma's focus shifted abruptly when she heard a sudden stifled grunt. And staring down at the seemingly uninjured pirate as he pulled his hook from the beast, she cringed—her stomach turning at the squishy and wet noise. The animal twitching above him, he shoved it away with heavy and labored movements, his arms quivering with the effort—the weight of the wolf clearly making the task trying and difficult.

Slowly, steadily, he got to his feet, moving with a grace that was more than a little surprising given the situation—a surge of pure envy shooting through her fast as she watched his naturally fluid movements. Straightening himself, he glanced down at the beast curiously before looking to her, and gradually she felt her shock fade as what she assumed were the effects of pure adrenaline rushed through her fast. Her vision hazy and her blood racing, she lowered her eyes down to the still twitching animal and then quickly back up to him, her heart refusing to slow in pace, her breathing continuing to come in and out labored.

Adrenaline.

"Brilliant."

His softly awed, almost whispered, voice had her bringing her gaze back to him, something in the back of her mind panicking again as her vision continued to blur and her heart picked up once more—now beating unnaturally fast.

_Adrenaline_, she told herself again.

Watching as a smile broke across his face, his eyes light with admiration and the faintest hint of gratitude, he shook his head, his grin widening. "You're bloody brilliant."

Feeling her own smile tugging at her lips, she went to take a step towards him, slightly curious if the wolf had managed to break through his clothing to the skin of his arm. And it was as she went to move that her vision blackened out around the edges, her head swam dizzyingly, and her body protested the action, rigidly staying in place.

"What the…" she murmured quietly her voice trailing off as her tongue went heavy and limp. Her eyes shooting to his, noticing how his gaze had widened considerably, her suddenly lax fingers dropped her sword, her legs uncomfortably stiffening.

"Swan?"

His voice was far away, the sights of the forest around her fading with him. Looking down at her torso, she took note of the still radiating pain that lingered in her side. And lifting a heavy hand she blinked once, twice, her eyes trying to focus on her stomach, something tingling running down her skin.

"_Swan?"_

With stubborn and determined effort she touched the side of her stomach tentatively, her hand brushing something both foreign and solid. And with trembling and weak fingers she gripped it, tearing it from her skin with one heavy and slow pull.

_Pain—such burning unrelenting horrible pain. _

And she couldn't scream, she couldn't even whimper.

Dimly studying the object, through her darkened vision she saw that it was a thorn. Half the size of her smallest finger, the sharpened tip shone with her blood.

And Hook's ominous words of Neverland's dangerous plants rang in her ears, loud and echoing.

_Paralysis. Death. _

"Damn." she whispered softly, unsure if she had actually spoken the words or if she had only thought them in her poisoned induced state.

Lifting her head slowly, just barely able to raise her chin, she tried to make out the sight of a dark figure coming towards her, her brain foggy as the world around her started to go black.

_She should have left him._

"EMMA!"

And it was with her name, shouted in an anguished tone, ringing through the night, that she succumbed to the unyielding pressure inside her head. The overwhelming and seductive darkness slowly took over; everything around her gradually dulled out and disappeared. Her body gave in.

And she fell.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for updating a day late! :( Chapter is pretty long though...**

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* * *

She was flying.

Her body was floating through the air, weightlessly soaring above the ground.

Opening her heavy lidded eyes Emma watched through fogged vision as darkly shaded colors swept passed her, her head unable to move as something cold rooted her entire body into place—a numbing feeling coursing through her veins and freezing her from the inside out. Her eyes fluttering shut again, she absorbed the faint sensation of gently drifting through the air while noting the loud roaring that was filling both her ears and head, drowning out everything around her as the night breeze danced across her slowly numbing skin.

_How was she flying?_

Opening her eyes once more, she attempted to squint and tried to lift her gaze upwards—black shapes taking form above her, the hint of something white and glittering peeking through the wavering shadows every so often. Vaguely she could sense a dull ache somewhere low, her frozen body barely registering the feeling as she continued to lose sensation. And forcing herself to focus, trying to snap her hazy mind to attention, she watched as a face fuzzily came into view. Blue eyes stared down at her, piercing and fierce. Familiar. Slowly features took shape around the eyes and she found herself staring up at Hook as his face hovered over her—something she couldn't quite place swimming in his gaze. Straining her ears, she noted with some awe that his lips were moving but no sound was coming out. _Why couldn't she hear him?_ She wanted to know what he was saying...if it was important. And wondering for a brief moment, how it was that he was flying too, she closed her eyes again, too tired to keep them open.

It was only as she began to fade away, that she felt something tighten around her body, a faint feeling of warmth attempting to envelope her completely, trying to push out the cold. And just barely above the loud rushing sound roaring and growing around her, his muffled voice, pleading and desperate, echoed in her head.

"_Emma! Stay with me."_

It was funny how badly she wanted to listen.

She wanted to stay.

How many times had she left him?

How many times had she regretted it?

Why did it matter?

And as a small part of her attempted to struggle over the freezing weight that was blocking out the soothing heat while gradually taking over her limp body, she found herself all too quickly giving up as darkness consumed her once again.

She left him.

* * *

_She was standing in a meadow._

_The world around her was beautiful…surreal._

_Flowers of every color and size imaginable sprouted up from the ground, butterflies as big as her hand fluttered from bud to bud, while birds sang cheerfully as they darted across the sky and landed in the leafy green trees that lined the meadow, swaying gently in the cool light breeze. And quietly at first, gradually getting louder, voices could be heard joining the birds—beautiful voices; their song ringing out throughout the thriving land, the lovely melodies slightly hypnotizing and surprisingly comforting. Far off in the distance rolling green hills could be seen, a hint of glittering water sparkled on the horizon, reflecting the light from the vibrantly shaded blue sky as the sun, rising high above, shone down, heating the land and warming her skin. _

_Emma had never seen anything like the place; it spoke of beauty and peace and hinted of magic._

_She never wanted to leave._

_But she had to._

_She wasn't supposed to be there._

_Something whispered in her head that she was unwanted, unwelcome.  
_

_A soft sound drawing her attention back towards the meadow, she directed her gaze in front of her, and saw with slight wonder and a glimmer of fear that there was a small child standing in the lush green grass before her. Hair dark as night, eyes blue as the vividly colored sky, he was crying. Big fat tears rolled down his face as he whimpered pitifully, the pathetic sounds drifting up and disrupting the land's peaceful tranquility._

_Her heart clenching, and mind reeling, she narrowed her brow as she made to move towards him, intent on going to him—something inside of her desperately calling out to him, needing to get to him. But before she could reach him, she gasped softly as she jerked forward suddenly, something heavy weighing her down and forcing her to stop. Quickly she realized with a sliver of fear, that she was frozen in place, unable to move—her legs were immobile, her efforts to break free useless. Alarmed, she looked to the ground, confusion dimming her features when despite her somewhat frenzied struggles, her feet stubbornly remained rooted to the soft grass. _

_She was stuck...trapped._

_As the muffled whimpers continued to sound throughout the meadow, she frowned—panic taking over her body as she attempted to twist and move once again, frustration bubbling in her veins when she continued to stay firmly in place. With a sigh and a livid curse she raised her eyes, desperation and helplessness screaming inside of her, she noticed almost immediately that the scene before her had quite drastically changed._

_The meadow was still lively and the child was still crying...but only a few feet away stood a young, somewhat familiar looking woman. Dressed all in white, she was hauntingly beautiful. Her long dark hair hung over her shoulders and tumbled down to her waist in loose cascading waves. Eyes bright and blue were fixated entirely on the boy__—_her lovely pale face twisted into an expression of both pain and sadness. It was awful; Emma could feel her grief, the air thick and ripe with it, the distress nearly suffocating. But before she could linger too long on the despair, the anguish threatening to consume her, she drew her attention away—noticing, far off in the distance, just over the clear waters, that there was an ominous looking black cloud coming towards them slowly, darkening the land and sea beneath it as it moved. 

_Once again feeling desperate, Emma tried to get to the boy, attempting to gain his attention, afraid if she couldn't the sinister looking shadow would take him instead—something that lingered deep inside of her sparking to life, screaming for her to help him. _

_Why wasn't the other woman helping him? _

_Why wasn't she trying to get to him?_

_Struggling against her invisible bonds, Emma continued to fight against the unyielding hold. Her eyes shooting to the ground once again, nearly hysterical she tried to figure out what was keeping her in place. She had to get to him, she had to save him. Hot tears rolling down her cheeks as his cries sounded in her ears over and over again, she shook her head frantically, wanting to block them out, needing them to go away._

_ She was helpless._

_ And horrified, she realized there was nothing she could do, she would be forced to stand frozen to the ground, unable to reach the boy as the shadow consumed him._

_It was torture. _

_Raising her gaze, panic balling low in her gut, dimly she became aware that something had shifted in the land once again__—_a nearly invisible wave rippling through the air as the scene before her changed.  


_The boy was still crying but the dark haired woman was no longer there...she had disappeared entirely, no trace of her lingering in her absence. The child was once again seemingly alone save for her useless and unnoticed presence._

_And the shadow continued to hover._

_ No! She screamed the word in her head, her tears continuing to fall. Not like this. _

_it couldn't end this way. _

_She couldn't let the shadow take the boy. _

_Her determination renewed, again she fought against her hold, silently begging for someone to help her, terrified of what would happen if the dark cloud reached them...reached him. And as she quietly pleaded for some kind of intervention, struggling in vain, she slowly and somewhat dazedly realized that they were quite suddenly no longer alone. _

_Looking away from the crying child, her eyes grew wide as her gaze fell on yet another figure._

_A girl, much younger than herself, with hair the color of gold appeared at the edge of the meadow and she watched with slight fascination as she made her way towards the crying boy with obvious and direct purpose in her light and unfaltering steps; she had a __goal. And as she headed towards it, the air around her seemed to stir, nature embracing her entirely__—_i_t was as if she belonged to the land and it belonged to her. _Though smaller framed, she carried herself gracefully, her movements fluid and somewhat free. Her beauty undeniable, she wore her long blonde hair down her back in an intricate braid, decorated with seemingly hundreds of tiny and colorful flowers. Dressed in a small earthy green tunic adorned with a large tan belt, soft brown boots covered her feet and in one hand she carried a bow, in the other a gleaming silver sword. And as the girl came even closer, Emma realized with growing awe that sprouting from her back were thin and clear wings, the breeze causing them to flutter every so often.

_A fairy?_

_A pixie?_

_Was there a difference?_

_Watching, completely riveted, as the girl drew nearer with a few more quick and confident steps, Emma paid careful attention as she stopped in front of the boy, almost immediately taking comfort in the fact that clearly this winged creature meant him no harm—a gentle expression of love and devotion lighting her face as she stared down at him kindly. Slowly, almost so as not to scare the child, the girl knelt in front of him. Her gaze cast upwards, she smiled at him before leaning forward and speaking softly, her words too quiet for Emma to hear. _

_She wished she could move closer._

_His crying subsiding, the boy stared at the girl for a moment before hesitantly smiling back. Slowly, his small hands reached out towards her as she continued to speak unclear words in soothing tones. And as he made contact with her face tracing the contours with his fingertips, a mischievous and playful look dashed across his young features as he grinned even wider, his toothy smile young and endearing—the action drawing a light chuckle from the girl. Seemingly delighted by her response, the boy laughed, and as it rang out, echoing soundly, a flash of light brightened the sky for a moment before it abruptly dimmed again—the looming threat disrupting the scene and eerily making its presence known once more. And with the gradual darkness taking over, the girl frowned before standing suddenly, a worried look crossing her gentle features. Sheathing her sword in her belt and slinging her bow over her shoulder, she held her arms out to the boy and gathered him close, tucking his head against her chest in a protective embrace. _

_Thunder rumbled as lightening flashed and the ground beneath her feet shook.  
_

_Holding the boy in her arms, the girl said something to him, shielding him as the black cloud's ominous presence drew nearer at a faster more frightening pace._

_Emma knew, as she watched the pair, that they had to leave now._

_They were in danger._

_And almost as if on cue, appearing at the edge of the forest what looked like black smoke began to billow through the trees, deadening the growth as it moved through it and leaving in its place a thicker, denser, wilder jungle. Gathering the child closer, the blonde girl turned from the scene, her delicate features twisted into a look of pain as she held the boy to her tightly. And still unable to move, Emma watched with a pounding heart as the girl stared up at the darkening sky for a moment before closing her eyes; her wings fluttering gently as she slowly lifted herself and the child off the ground._

_The moment the girl started to fly, __a __shrill screech shot through the air—_the rage filled sound, piercing and sharp and seemingly coming out of nowhere. And watching with terror and awe as the smoke flew across the meadow, changing the land beneath it and heading directly towards them, Emma cried out knowing that it was a terrifying threat, the shrieking still ringing and echoing around them.  


_Something wanted the boy._

_Badly._

_Panicked, her throat narrowing with fear and her pulse racing fast, Emma screamed, urging the winged girl to do something as both the shadow above and the billowing smoke below closed in on them fast. And in that moment, where escape seemed impossible the blonde girl glanced down and locked eyes with Emma. Her clear gray gaze both sad and hopeful____________—_her eyes silently implored her as a sudden and unfamiliar voice rang out in her head.

_She was asking her to find him, to protect him, to love him. _

_And hugging the boy closer, she whispered something into his ear before, in the blink of an eye, she burst into a thousand little beams of light. The rays shimmering and shooting up into the sky lit the world around them in a bright glow before fading slowly._

_And as the light dimmed, the boy disappeared with it._

_Livid and furious howls sounded throughout the meadow._

_And with the near palpable fury the black cloud covered the land completely._

* * *

Something was resting against her lips, urging them to open.

Confused she tried to tilt her head away, but before she could muster up the strength, a cool liquid was poured into her mouth—the taste foul as it slithered its way down her throat. Gagging she fought against it, not wanting to drink anymore, but too weak to put up much of a struggle she quickly succumbed to its vile taste as it continued to slowly pour into her mouth until finally there was no more left, the stream trickling off gradually. Gasping for breath, the taste on her tongue bitter, she rested for a moment, seconds passed, ticking by slowly, a weakness she wasn't used to overtaking her body.

And then, blinking her eyes, her body pitched upwards, nearly flying off the ground...and she felt it

Pain.

Horrible blinding pain—it was everywhere at once consuming her entirely.

Something terrible was clawing at her, ripping her apart from the inside out.

It was awful…she couldn't…wouldn't…survive such searing torturous pain.

And there were screams, horrible horrible screams—the brutal sounds echoing in her head over and over again, high-pitched and piercing. She wanted to cover hear ears, she couldn't stand the noise—the sounds horrific and frightening. But try as she might, she couldn't lift her hands to block it out, her arms were heavy, limp, and useless.

She couldn't move them.

And through the fog of agony it took her slow working brain a moment to register that they were bound behind her back—something uncomfortable and tight digging into her wrists and rubbing them raw.

Trapped, tied up, and useless.

She was going to die.

Her eyes opening, Emma tried to focus on what was around her, the slicing pain she felt rippling through her body leaving her breathless as her vision faltered and the sounds of screaming continued to jar her. What had happened to her? What _was_ happening to her? Despite her efforts, all she could see was shadowed darkness; gleaming black walls surrounded her and a cool damp musty scent wafted to her nose. Her over sensitized body was barely able to register anything else—the fire that was raging through her was burning her slowly, torturing her from the inside out.

It was unbearable.

She wouldn't survive it.

_She wanted to die._

Abruptly, through the crimson tinged haziness, she saw a figure come towards her, the shape gradually taking form as her eyes struggled to focus; her efforts proving futile until the figure was nearly on top of her, his features quite suddenly recognizable.

Hook.

He was staring down at her, tall and proud_, _wearing nothing but a pair dark leather pants, his bare chest shining with with sweat. Where was his shirt? Why had he taken it off? What was he planning on doing? Was he smiling or frowning?

His expression unreadable, his attractive face was distorted_____—_continuing to switch back and forth from beautiful to demonic and back again as his vibrant gaze met and held hers.

_Panic._

She felt it bubble through her veins— stinging and prickly terror meeting hot and blazing agony. Staring at him through watery eyes, something inside of her warned her in frantic and harsh tones to keep him away, afraid he was the cause of whatever was making the horrible screaming noises, certain that he was the reason for all of her pain. And watching as her vision blackened out slowly before clearing suddenly, she saw through the misty fog, as it once again settled itself over her eyes, that he held something in his hand…a cloth of some sort…a scarf.

Dimly through the thick wall of distress she wondered what he planned on doing with it; but before she could think it over to thoroughly a wave of hurt hit her again, the sensation even sharper and more distinct than before.

How was she supposed to survive?

Meeting his stare once again, Emma held it, her mind attempting to shut everything else out as she considered her predicament. He was her only chance...he had to do something.

_Help me. _

Still unable to speak, she pleaded with him, imploring him silently with her heavy lidded burning eyes.

Watching through her darkened vision as he leaned over her, she saw his lips move slowly but his muffled words came out indecipherable—a coldness slinking through her body as the rest of her senses continued to heighten. And with her silent plea still ringing in her head, another harsh voice interrupted her and scolded her angrily, informing her that he had no intentions of helping.

He was a villain.

_Fear._

Suddenly he moved, positioning himself somewhere behind her, she could both sense and feel him lowering himself to the ground. Sitting down, he reached out and pulled her to him, settling her against his naked chest, the movement jarring her and reigniting the burning that had taken over her body. Quietly he whispered something in her ear, something she couldn't make out over all the horrible screaming that echoed and bounced off the dark walls of the area that surrounded them. It wasn't until she felt the cloth cover her mouth; the hot feel of his breath against her neck that she realized his intentions. But too weak, too useless, too consumed by the blinding hurt: she was unable to fight him, was only able to sit helplessly against him as he used his good hand and mouth to tie the scarf around her and gag her completely.

_What was he planning on doing to her?_

Securing the cloth against her lips, he said something to her again in a soft almost soothing tone, his words still unclear and barely audible as his arms wrapped around her tightly holding her to him in an unyielding embrace. And sick with fear and wracked by pain she paid him no mind.

He couldn't hurt her...not if she blocked him out...not if she wasn't truly there.

She was good at doing that.

And as her body began to shake uncontrollably and the burning fire attempted to claw its way out of her while stinging tears spilled down her face, streaking her cheeks and staining her skin—she quickly came to realize, with misplaced fascination…that the shrieking was now stifled.

The screams had been hers.

And with his arms tightening around her, the feel of his lips gently ghosting across her hair and the dawning realization sinking in, she let both pain and exhaustion pull her under, a part of her desperately hoping she wouldn't wake again.

* * *

_She was slowly walking down a long cobblestone hallway; her movements were fluid, graceful, almost unnatural. Running her fingernails along the walls of the narrow corridor, Emma lazily observed with a sense of slight detachment that they were cold to the touch, the stones seemingly seeping with a dark and shiny liquid that trickled down in thick crimson lines. Continuing to drag her fingers across the cool surface, her hands becoming coated in red, she noted that on either side of her several doors lined each wall—behind them the sound of horrible muffled sobs could be heard desperately crying out. _

_Children's cries. _

_And above those cries, a single voice, louder than the rest, resonated in her ears with jarring familiarity. _

_Attempting to ignore the sounds she continued on—her destination a large formidable looking door that awaited her at the very end of the hall. The closer she drew to it, the louder the voices became, their painful sobs lifting up and echoing in the space around her as they begged for her to stop, screaming for her to turn around._

_She would be faced with a choice._

_A heartbreaking choice._

_One that whispered of redemption and spoke of tears and anguish._

_Love lost and found only to be lost again._

_It was a choice she wouldn't want to make._

_But she had to._

_She needed to._

_Something…someone…was counting on her. _

_Continuing to glide across the floor, her fingernails scraping across rock, the screeching noise of nails against stone ringing out shrilly, Emma stared ahead of her; the door drawing closer with every poised step she took. And as she moved the cries continued to beg her to turn around…to forget it…to forget them. But she had no clue who or what it was she was supposed to forget…her memories were vague, unclear and blurry._

_She only knew something inside of her continued to propel her forward._

_And as she moved closer, her determination grew, her resolve unwavering, until finally, she stopped in front of the door, her eyes falling on it and absorbing the sight entirely. And as she stared at it, she realized with a gentle tilt of her head that the voices had quite suddenly stopped, the crying slowly subsiding. Silence. Drawing her focus back to the door she studied it a moment, her gaze focusing on it intently. It was large, made of very old, very thick, very dark looking wood—the effect heavy and impenetrable. There were intricate engravings carved into it, their pictures seemingly telling a story, one that rang both old and familiar. _

_She knew this tale. _

_A band of warriors, both female and male, were shown wielding swords and carrying bows and arrows, their expressions fierce and intense as they prepared for battle. Surrounding the warriors was an army of demons, and a woman holding a staff hovering over them with a look of pure rage etched into her beautiful face—bodies strewn all around her, their expressions hopeless and lost. In the middle of all the chaos sat a girl with an infant on her lap, a far off look on her face, she was seemingly unaware of the horrors that surrounded her. And in the distance an odd little group looked on from afar—a winged woman with a sad smile, a small man with a satanic grin, another figure facing away from the group with his back towards the girl. And slightly apart from the rest of them stood a man, his face twisted into an expression of agony as his arms reached out in the direction of the girl and baby, seemingly desperate to get to them._

_Staring at it hard she felt something tug at her heart as the beginnings of recognition stirred within her—she could almost identify the faces. And as she studied the wood, her eyes focused carefully on the etchings, sweeping over them slowly, a voice suddenly shot through her concentration, interrupting her with the soft whisper of her name. The sound haunting and poignant, it quietly repeated her name before, in an urgent tone, informing her it was time. She needed to move forward. And with the gentle prodding continuing to repeat itself over and over again in a quiet mantra, without further hesitation she placed her hand gently on the heavy door and pushed._

_Easily, effortlessly it gave way and opened._

_Walking through the doorway, Emma stopped for a moment quickly scanning the area around her. It was entirely dark on the other side, save for a small beam of light, which shone from somewhere above, illuminating the far end of the room in an eerie glow. And blinking, she struggled to focus as she stared ahead of her, noticing with some effort that there were people standing before her_

_Waiting for her._

_What appeared to be a father and son stared at her silently, both looking at her with identical grins that something inside of her immediately recognized—their smiles affectionate, gentle and striking. And just off to the left of the father and son was a lone man who was looking down at the ground. His face unclear, hovering above him was a dark cloud, tinged with just the faintest hint of sparkling light; the darkness slowly taking shape, the shadow looked more and more like a person with each passing second. Studying it for a moment she couldn't tell if it was threatening the man or protecting him____________—_a part of her whispering softly that it was quite possibly doing both.

_Moving closer to the group, her steps echoing in the silent room, she realized with only slight reluctance that it was time for her to make her choice, the voice in her head was eagerly urging her to do so, pleading for her to make the right one._

_Choose._

_And with the command something inside her chest clenched and her footing faltered._

_Darting her eyes back and forth between father and son and shadow and man she inhaled deeply, stepped forward, and chose._

_And her heart broke._

* * *

She could hear a faint methodical dripping noise.

It was almost soothing; the constant sound coupled with the damp atmosphere as wet and musky smells swirled around her, invading her nose and cooling her skin. Listening closely, she strained her ears and clung to the quiet dripping; needing it to anchor her, afraid that she was on the verge of drifting away once again.

She couldn't sleep, she didn't want to sleep...it was time to get up.

_Wake up Emma wake up._

The demand resonating in her brain, she gathered her strength and focused on her goal…

Wake up.

Gradually, surely, she pulled herself from the last ties to her restless and terrifying sleep—a muffled cough, the dim sounds of birds singing in the distance and the steady and echoing drips all gently aiding her in her seemingly simple task.

_Wake up._

For a moment as consciousness came back to her, images appeared before her still closed eyelids, her dreams vivid and bright flashed before her in fast and clear sequence—a beautiful land, a lost boy, a dark room and a choice. And remembering the dreams tears pricked at her eyes and her heart grew heavy, a lost feeling of despair threatening to slowly creep up on her.

She wanted to forget but she _needed_ to remember...the dreams had been important, their message telling.

Trying to grasp onto the scenes, attempting to implant each of them into her brain, she let out a defeated sigh as she struggled to keep them. But her memory failed her. Just as suddenly as they appeared, they vanished, leaving only a trail of bright colors and dark shadows in their fading wake.

Helplessness taking over her, she attempted to calm her mind and body, pushing away the threatening distress as a feeling of loss swept over her fast.

"Wake up Emma."

Opening her eyes at the sound of the voice, with a squint and a soft moan, Emma swept her gaze around her, frowning when she saw that she could barely make out the sights before her. She was so damned sick of the darkness. Her cheeks stinging, her throat raw, her limbs heavy and achy, a wave of nausea churned her stomach abruptly, threatening to lurch up and spill its contents as she feebly attempted to focus. The clammy and sweaty feeling that quickly broke out across her skin bringing a silent curse to her dry and cracked lips.

What had happened to her?

_She was stronger than this_.

Rolling her head slowly to the opposite side, the muscles there protesting the tiny movement, she blinked once surprised by the soft muted light that filtered in from some unknown source; it's beam lighting the dark and illuminating the rock walls that surrounded her in a soft iridescent glow. Breathing in deeply, her lungs burning with the action, she halfheartedly debated sitting up, curious if the simple action was one she could manage.

"Well, are you quite certain you're awake this time lass?"

At the sound of the deep and lilting tone her eyes widened—her head, though throbbing, was clear and lucid enough to recognize it as familiar. And waiting only a heartbeat or two, she found herself easily able to place Hook's lowly accented and somewhat gravelly voice. Her heart picking up in pace and her skin prickling with awareness when she realized that he was nearby.

_Was he savior or villain, good guy or bad?_

Almost guiltily she found herself questioning his intentions as she raised her eyes in the direction of his voice. And it was with a vague sense of wonder and dread that she found herself hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

_Gentleman or pirate?_

_Man or scoundrel?_

Seeing him standing only a couple of feet away she took in the sight of his disheveled appearance, a war going on inside of her head as fear and gratefulness clashed together violently at the mere sight of him. Focusing her attention on him, her eyes grew big, her breathing stuttering, as she realized with jolt of anxiety, that he was standing bare chested before her.

He should have more clothes on.

Why the hell didn't he have more clothes on?

His eyes never leaving her face, he seemed unconcerned by his current state—any hint of mischief or playfulness completely absent from his features. Instead his expression was indecipherable, his eyes unreadable. Embarrassed, confused, and slightly alarmed, she opened her mouth to speak, wincing as she swallowed, the painful feeling of tiny and sharp needles stabbing their way down her throat brutally shocking her as a small infuriating whimper escaped her lips.

"Don't try to speak just yet sweetheart." Walking over to her, he stopped at her side, and staring down at her for a moment his eyes searched her face intently, something anxious flashing in his gaze as he held her faltering stare. Regret, relief, worry, remorse. "Have you truly come back?" He whispered the question softly, his voice just barely audible holding soft notes of concern and the faintest hint of tenderness.

He had been worried.

About her.

Part of her didn't want to believe it...refused to accept it, her tired mind was seeing and hearing what it wanted, making things up in an attempt to comfort her. But before she had the chance to try to process it, to possibly question him, he raised his hook, stopping her before she could try to speak again as he lowered himself down onto the hard ground next to her.

Too close, he was way too close.

Tensing as he moved even closer, she stared up at him, her breathing unsteady as the persisting and defenseless feeling of weakness angered her down to her very core.

_She was stronger than this!_

"I'll try to be gentle."

Peering up at him, she watched curiously as he gently, almost tenderly, attempted to ease her still limp body up. Placing his bad arm beneath her, his cold hook resting against her skin, he lifted her towards him, raising a brow when her body stiffened and she weakly attempted to struggle in his embrace.

"Don't be a fool. I can promise you darling, I'm in no mood to take advantage of your current state of undress…" The sentence hanging he shot her a tight grin, something dark gleaming in his eyes. "Although I can assure you the view is rather appealing."

_What the hell?_

His words making no sense, the hint of humor falling flat, confused and more than a little irritated she looked down. Her eyes widening and her skin heating as she realized with the beginnings of hot fury that she was also without a shirt—her somewhat tattered cream bra all she was wearing.

No.

This was not happening again...she was not vulnerable, nearly naked, and in his arms _again._

Anger and humiliation colliding within her, she raised her eyes furiously to him, seeking answers in his unblinking and emotionless blue stare.

"Before you speak...or rather, attempt to yell...drink this." He encouraged her and paying her heavy breathing and fuming glare no mind, he lifted a canteen to her lips, urging her to sip.

_Hell no._

Straightening her mouth, she stubbornly pursed it together, narrowing her eyes as memories of something else being pressed against her lips and forced down her throat resurfaced fast. The pain, good God the blinding and unrelenting pain. Vividly she remembered the agony. Too clear she recalled the screaming and the fear.

"Your throat is raw from the screams lass…it's only water...it won't hurt you."

His voice interrupted her thoughts, and bringing her attention back to the canteen she considered it warily, her mouth twisting up and her nose wrinkling in disgust as she looked at it distastefully.

"Trust me Emma."

Her gaze flashing back to his, she saw the gentle urging swimming in his tired stare and it was at that moment with his face so close to hers that she noticed how exhausted he looked—his eyes red-rimmed, his hair mussed, his coloring pale. He looked like he had been to hell and back. And with the thought a tiny faintly humored voice silently mused that she must not look much better. Her gaze continuing to roam over him, took in the sight of his dark stubble, the grim and tight line of his lips and the steady rise and fall of his chest. And too tired to fight him, she found herself almost unconsciously nodding; never taking her eyes off him, she allowed him to carefully poor the cool water into her mouth as he held her body loosely against his. The refreshing liquid proving to be nearly too much as she coughed and sputtered_, _her narrowed throat protesting and burning.

Allowing her a moment to recover he waited a beat before lifting the canteen to her lips again. Pouring a little less into her mouth this time, he smirked a bit when she was able to handle the water and greedily attempted to drink more_____—_the soothing coolness starting to take effect, slowly it eased her sensitive and sore throat.

When finally she had her fill, unable to take anymore she turned her head away, silently refusing his continued attempts to get her to drink_____—_his irritated sigh filtering to her ears, annoyance prickling up her spine at the sound. And ignoring him for the moment she ran her tongue across her teeth, drawing it over her still wet lips and back in again as her mind began to race, attempting to place the foggy bits of her memory that were struggling to resurface.

"Are you trying to tempt me my dear?"

Snapping her eyes back to his, she watched as he raised a brow, his gaze pointedly drifting to the lips she had just licked with a purposeful and deliberately dark look.

She hated him.

When his mouth quirked up into a smile, his gaze still lingering, she swallowed thickly.

She really hated him.

"Do you remember what happened?" He murmured softly, his attention slowly moving from her lips to her eyes, the words whispering across her hair.

Not answering him, Emma realized with a sense of unease that she was still practically laying in his lap, the warmth of his skin seeping into hers, the feel of his breath tickling her face unnerving and intimate. Sitting up quickly, nearly knocking her head with his in the process, she made a move to pull away from him. She needed space...she needed to breathe. Bracing her hands on either side of her, her head swimming and ringing with the movement, she pushed herself from him, her eyes drifting down with the action and widening as she took in the sight of ugly red marks that marred her wrists, the skin there raw and tender.

"What the hell?"

The sound of her voice was raspy, weak, and nearly unrecognizable. Shuffling backwards, across the cold hard ground they sat on, she moved further away from Hook so that there was more distance between them_____—_her eyes narrowing as she touched the broken skin gingerly, her fingers twitching, itching for the heavy feel of a blade or the comforting weight of a gun.

She was going to kill him.

"Yes well I can't say that you didn't deserve a little bondage yourself darling...pay back and all."

His tone was somewhat bored, his expression flat as she raised her eyes to meet his. "You did this?" she could barely suppress the livid tremor that shook her words as she stared at him hard, unforgiving fury burning her eyes.

"Yes."

"Why?"

The softly spoken, croaked question, hung between them as she continued to rub her wrists, wincing a bit as the skin there protested her touch. She could feel the threat of a tremble dusting her lips, her mind still unfocused trying to recall what had happened.

There had been wolves, the barrier had fallen, and they had been forced to fight off the animals on their own until it had been restored again. Only she had been on the outside, unable to get in, so she had run, two wolves following her as she had left her parents behind. She had thought she was going to die, at the time she had been sure of it. But she hadn't. She had climbed a tree and the wolves had left her, finding Hook in the process. And dammit she had saved him, killing the beast with a swing of her sword, she had saved him...

"I saved you." Her whispered words came out as more of an accusation than a simple observation.

And hearing them, a quick smile lit his features and his eyes caught hers. Leisurely he shifted his position to sit back, one leg stretched out, he bent his knee towards his chest and rested his elbow on it lazily. "That's arguable darling."

"You were pinned to the ground by that___________—_that _thing_...I saved your ass_____."_

"And got yourself good and poisoned in the process."

_The thorn_, images of her hands moving over her stomach to find a small thorn implanted in her skin, bombarded her fast_____—_her distress, her anger, her fear as the realization that she had fallen victim to one of Neverland's deadly plants resonating soundly throughout her as she slowly remembered.

"Bleeding Thorns...that's what got you...dangerous and deadly weeds."

Drawing her attention back to him, Emma watched as something dark passed over his features, his eyes never leaving hers, "Why am I not dead?" she asked, clearing her throat, as still dry and raw, it protested the conversation.

"Would you prefer to be?"

Tilting her head to the side she shot him a reproachful scowl, bristling slightly with the casually asked inquiry. "What happened Hook? Where are we, what happened to my wrists, why am I not dead, how long have we been here...and where the hell are our clothes?"

Grinning, his eyes lighting with genuine humor at her tersely spoken questions, he chuckled deeply. "You were poisoned darling, that much is obvious I'm sure. There's an antidote to counteract the poison. I gave it to you and now you're awake." He said simply, almost smugly as if his poor explanation should clearly answer all of her questions.

_Bastard._

Unsatisfied, she merely continued to glare at him, demanding more answers, refusing to look away until he gave them to her. Stubbornly he held her gaze, the stormy blue both unforgiving and unyielding, his expression hard and fixed; until abruptly, almost surprisingly it went soft, and finally, with obvious reluctance he sighed loudly and rolled his eyes with a short nod.

"The antidote is a powerful substance, coming from this land it can be deadly as it is helpful. Many who have used it have only succeeded in dying quicker under its influence. To take it is to risk immediate death but if one is in need of it the circumstance must prove to be dire anyway, so I suppose the chances and risks are of no matter. Shortly after you were poisoned, I found this cave and brought you here. And much to your obvious dismay I had to strip you in order to dress the wound first, even though it appeared small, the infection was taking hold of you fast." He paused, his eyes flickering downwards, and for a moment Emma found herself staring at him as his shoulders tensed and his good hand clenched tightly. Briefly, she wondered if it upset him to remember. But then, almost as soon as the thought hit her, he was lifting his eyes to her, something sharp gleaming within them. "And while more often than not I like a woman to be conscious when I'm giving her my undivided attention I will say Emma you were every bit as lovely as I had remembered."

"Shut up." she muttered hoarsely, part of her disgusted by his statement while another part silently appreciated that he was treating her the same as always___________—_she wasn't sure she could take it if he had attempted to handle her with kid gloves.

Ignoring her, he continued on, "the antidote can drive even the strongest of men mad...I had to bind your hands together in an attempt to stop you from clawing at your wound." Pausing, he diverted his attention to his hook, seemingly unable to meet her eyes. "Unfortunately I had to gag you as well, it was a necessary chore, as your screams needed stifling. The last thing we needed was for you to draw unnecessary attention towards us." His eyes still cast down, his expression hardened slightly. "In your sleep you fought against them both...screaming and twisting constantly."

With his tense almost pained words weighing heavily on her, quickly she saw a picture of him in her head, pulling her towards him and settling her limp body against his as he gently placed a scarf over her mouth.

She remembered being terrified, confused and helpless, so horribly helpless.

"Oh." she whispered softly, stupidly, and closing her eyes, she attempted to calm her breathing, as she tried to push the image away. "So...umm...what happened to our clothes...what did you do with them?"

And while she wasn't looking at him, she was sure he was grinning, the amused sound of his voice only further proving her suspicions, "There's a stream just outside the cave, I attempted to wash the blood and sweat from them...I can assure you I was a complete gentleman...when I have you Emma it won't be because I took advantage of a sick woman."

Her eyes shooting to his, she opened her mouth to fling a smart retort at him, annoyed by the suggestions that they would ever be intimate, a flush heating her body and a flutter flickering in her belly as she considered his statement. But he merely waved her impending comments away, his suddenly tired expression causing her mouth to snap shut as she swallowed down her unspoken words___________—_she supposed he deserved a free pass.

"Your shirt is drying in the sun."

"And yours?"

His eyes drifted over to the ground, following it she saw that it was balled up where she had been laying, her gaze narrowing as she considered it.

"Wouldn't want the princess to rest her head on rock after all."

Glancing up at him curiously, it took Emma a moment to grasp that he had used his own shirt as a pillow of sorts for her as she had slept the poison off___________—_the tiny gesture causing something inside of her to clench as her throat narrowed fractionally. The thought of him taking care of her, watching over her was both terrifying and comforting.

"Here, you must be hungry."

Bringing her slipping focus back to him, she watched as he reached over and picked up a brown leather bag. Digging around in it a bit, he pulled out a small piece of yellow fruit and something wrapped in a large green leaf. At the sight, her stomach grumbled, and her mouth watered. The nausea from earlier gone, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Holding it out to her, he offered the food, and she only paused for a second before unable to resist, she leaned forward and accepted it fast_____—_their fingers brushing gently as he passed it over. Unwrapping the leaf with shaky hands, she glanced down at its contents her brow furrowing as she stared at what appeared to be some kind of cooked meat, the smell not entirely unappealing.

"Where did you get this and what the hell is it?"

He laughed softly, settling back into his lazy position, "I made and set traps."

"Traps?"

"I'm not entirely useless darling and I did live here for many years before."

It was funny how sometimes she forgot that for centuries he had called the dark and dangerous land home.

"Right, so what is it?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Sighing she glanced down at the meat, the darkened color somewhat unpleasing to the eye, her nose wrinkling slightly as she considered it carefully. "I guess not." And placing it in her lap, she opted for the fruit first. Turning it over in her hands and studying it closely, Emma saw that it resembled a small ripe mango in both shape and size. Curious she wondered how safe it really was but as soon as the thought popped into her head she quickly chased it away___________—_she supposed if he hadn't let her die from a poisonous thorn she figured he wasn't bound to kill her off with fruit. At least she hoped. Lifting it to her mouth, she took a small tentative bite, the taste bringing a tiny smile to her lips as she chewed it slowly. It was delicious, sweet and juicy and wonderful. Suddenly, feeling ravenous she quickly ate the rest of it, the juices dripping down her chin, she paid them no mind as her hunger took over, her teeth gnawing the fruit until she reached the bitter core.

"Darling you're acting barbarian."

"Shut up."

His weak chuckle had her eyes shooting up, and noticing once again how tired he looked she picked up the meat carefully, clearing her throat before she spoke. "When was the last time you slept?"

Stretching, he reached his arms above him, his taut muscles rippling and flexing with the action, before, catching her staring, he flashed her a winning and somewhat devious smile. "Is that an invitation?"

"I swear to God..." Shaking her head she glared at the rock floor as she looked away from him. Her eyes falling on his dark and rumpled shirt, she reached out and picked it up, throwing it at him hard, the simple act nearly knocking the wind out of her___________—_her body was still exhausted and limp. "Put that on." she practically wheezed, chin tilting upwards as she refused to let him see her weakness.

Catching it easily he laughed but to her somewhat pleasant surprise he didn't argue with her, instead he shrugged into it slowly, leaving it unbuttoned as he stared at her expectantly. His eyes, blue and light even in the dim cave caught hers across the small space between them, a smirk ghosting his features as he ran his eyes up and down her body. And with the slow perusal she felt her annoyance spike, now that he was properly dressed she only felt that much more exposed.

"Is my shirt still wet?"

"I very much doubt it is."

"Would it have killed you to dress me?"

"I believe pained would be the more appropriate word sweetheart."

Rolling her eyes she raised them to the cave's gleaming ceiling, asking whatever deity was listening to give her strength and patience. "How long have we been here?" she asked him in a strained voice, veering off the topic and going for a different approach.

"Two days."

His fast, quietly spoken answer had her closing her eyes, her teeth gritting almost painfully as she thought about all the time they had lost...time away from looking for Henry, from saving him. She tried to tell herself that maybe Mary Margaret and David's luck had been better, but she couldn't rid herself of the terrifying feeling that they were just as lost as she was___________—_no better off than the savior stuck in a cave with a pirate. She felt hopeless. She wanted to hit something, she wanted to yell and curse and scream and shout.

She wanted to cry

"How long has it been since you slept Hook?" She asked again, needing to focus on something else entirely.

When he didn't answer Emma drew her attention back to him, watching as he stared hard at the ground, his lips pursed tight, his fingers idly tracing the dirt covered rock. And that's when it hit her, realization gradually dawning on her as she skimmed over his exhausted features and considered his gravelly voice. They had been in the cave for two days. He had taken care of her for two days, dressing her wound, feeding her the antidote, and watching over her.

He hadn't slept for two days.

"You need rest."

"I'm fine."

Suppressing a frustrated growl, she pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to calm her growing anger. "Dammit Hook, if we're planning on heading back out there anytime soon you need to sleep."

"Someone has to keep watch darling."

"I'm not tired."

"And weak as a kitten...we're not safe from the threats that still linger."

He was right. She was weak, incredibly so...but even after all he'd done for her, everything he'd witnessed, she refused to acknowledge that weakness in front of him_____—_her pride, what was left of her dignity wouldn't allow her to. Bracing her hands on the ground she slowly rose, her legs burning and protesting the action as she straightened her spine_____—_her body still wobbly and unsteady. She just needed exercise, food, and sunlight. She was fine. And glancing down at him, watching as he looked up at her with keen curiosity and unmasked admiration lighting his features, Emma raised a single brow, her lips quirking slightly with the action. "I'm strong enough to kick you in the head if I need to wake you up.

An appreciative laugh rippling low in his throat, he settled back, his reluctance clearly fading___________—_whether it was because he was too tired to argue with her or because he realized that doing so would be stupid she wasn't sure...most likely it was a combination of both.

Placing his hands behind his head he watched her from his laying position. "Point taken pet."

Turning from him, she frowned, her eyes sweeping the small confines of the cave, roaming over the shiny black walls, and the scattered dark rocks. And seeing the stream of light pouring in from the entrance, her body perked up_____—_the mere thought of the sun on her skin warming her fractionally. "Would it kill you stop with the pet names...not that you care but I have a real one you know." she asked him in a still raspy, somewhat clipped tone. She liked her name, she felt connected to it___________._ With everything that had ever happened in her life, her name had remained the same...always a constant.

"Not that you care to remember...but I have one as well _Emma_."

She had just begun to move away from him, intent on finding her shirt, when she heard speak quietly in a soft almost broken voice___________—_the words jarring her and shocking her for unknown reasons.

Halting at his statement, her heart thumping erratically against her chest, her head swimming slightly, she turned back around, surprised to find his eyes closed, his expression tight and impassive. Studying him a moment, taking in the odd sight of him resting and seemingly defenseless, her eyes drifted down his body, across his chiseled features, over his unbuttoned shirt and leather clad legs and then back up again. Drawing her lip into her mouth, her breathing suddenly labored, she thought about the past two days and what it must have been like for him___________—_listening to her screams, dressing her wound, fighting off exhaustion.

Thinking of it something inside of her softened, she could almost sense her emotional barriers wavering as she considered the man she swore she hated and his continued and telling actions towards her___________. _Dimly something shifted, clicking into place as the threat of acceptance and something else crept up on her.

And turning from him she paused a moment, her eyes closing briefly as she was jolted by the fuzzy and unclear memory of him holding her after he had gagged her, his lips near her hair even as she had continued to scream.

"I remember it _Killian_." she said quietly, before without so much as a backwards glance she slowly and unsteadily walked away, unsure if he had even heard her and unwilling to stick around long enough to find out.

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**Review?!**

**I know you guys are itching for this to heat up AND IT WILL but I'm trying to make sure I don't just smash them together and force them to kiss (and other stuff) because I'm a creep and I need it more than air.**

**It's coming though.**

**I promise.**

**Until then why don't you tell me what you think___________—_every time you review a pixie is born. True story.**


	7. Chapter 7

**First off, before I say anything else, THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND THE WONDERFUL AMAZING FLAWLESS REVIEWS!**

**I've been traveling off an on for the past couple of months, making it hard to update and/or concentrate on the story. Writer's ADD—it's a thing. However I'm home for a few months now and I hope to keep my focus. But just so you know CS Kink Month is underway and I will be writing a story for that too just an FYI and a shameless plug to the gals who have already contributed—go check out the tumblr tag 'cs kink month' for some smutty goodness.**

**Okay so hope you enjoy and please review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.**

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Late morning in Neverland on the outskirts of the forest looked like a flawless and beautiful painting; the sprawling and vibrant view was so unreal and vivid. The sun gleamed high; dazzling and intense against the cerulean heavens with not a cloud in sight to disrupt its glittering beams as it blazed hot and bright above the rolling hills and the high tree tops—the many colors that covered the land popping and brilliant against the shocking light.

It was stunning.

And it was also dangerous.

_Of fucking course it was._

After all, beauty came with a price in Neverland.

As the blazing yellow orb shone down on them with its rays stretching far and wide, searing heat rolled from it in fiery and radiating waves, making the air around them thick and the ground beneath their boots almost unbearably warm. The dense green trees and colorful plants drooped heavily, sagging and wilting under the sweltering temperatures, the sounds of the usually lively and animated creatures silenced as they sought shade and shelter from the unforgiving sun. The stillness was odd—only hearing an occasional bird's song or the soft and deliberate rustle and shuffle of leaves moving as a small critter scurried across the dry and cracked ground was more than a little unsettling. The dull quiet only increased the rising and almost tangible anxiety that lingered in the stifling atmosphere as they pushed forward wordlessly—now that she was stronger their focus was once again on a common and shared goal.

_Rescuing her son._

And a pang of hurt and doubt shot through Emma's body as thoughts of her parents stabbed at the back of her mind suddenly, even as part of her resolutely tried to push them away, a small voice reminding her that her attention couldn't waver. She had to believe that her parents were safe, that Regina and Gold were helping to keep them protected, that they could take care of themselves. She couldn't let herself worry about anything, _anyone_, else. Though separated, she had to continue to hope that they were still looking for Henry and that they would eventually find each other once again.

She couldn't afford to think otherwise.

It was too depressing, too dangerous.

She needed to get back on track. She had to concentrate; her emotions, her fears, her regrets all had to go on the backburner no matter how persistent and suffocating they were.

Too much time had already been lost.

It had been four days since Hook had scooped her up and carried her lifeless body into hiding. And two days since she had awoken from her poison induced haze. Two days of being forced to remain in the sanctuary of the cool cave he had found, enduring endless hours of forced conversation and uncomfortable silences—memories of her dreams coming at her intermittently as the sounds of her own screams echoed hauntingly in her ears.

It had been hell, the cramped space nearly unbearable.

At first, as she had slowly recovered, she had tried to talk to him. Frustrated with the silence, she had attempted to make things easier on them, knowing she owed him her life while continuing to struggle with her too many and constantly shifting thoughts of him and his actions towards her. But mere hours after she had first awoke from her drugged induced sleep he had distanced himself from her—the dark mask of the callous and ruthless pirate replacing the concerned and tender expression she had quickly grown used to in the short period of time they had been alone together.

His constant mood swings were both unnerving and confusing…

_"Where were you?"_

_Raising a brow at his gruffly asked question, Emma looked at the pouch she held in her hand, a tiny smirk lighting her features as she studied it carefully. It was filled to the point of near bursting with a bunch of plump wild berries she had gathered just outside the cave—her mouth nearly watering thinking of how sweet they would taste, her hunger almost completely shadowing the sudden and overwhelming fatigue that had taken hold of her as she had picked the last of the ripe fruit. _

_She still wasn't at her full strength. _

_And it was driving her crazy._

_Her breathing labored and her heart pounding, she tried to compose herself as best as she could, not wanting him to see how she was fighting the urge to collapse onto the cool cave floor. Despite his actions, and what he had witnessed while she had been unconscious, she still refused to knowingly let him see any sign of weakness._

_At least not if she could help it._

_"Emma what is in the pouch?"_

_His lowly spoken words pulled her from her musings, and offering him a tight and tentative smile, she slowly moved further into the cave, ignoring the slight wheezing that rattled in her chest. "You've been sleeping for awhile…I was getting hungry again so I picked some berries…"_

_The haste with which he moved shocked her, causing her words to trail off abruptly as he shot up from the ground fast with a speed that appeared almost unnatural. She didn't have any time to react when he rushed her, her legs still unsteady and weak nearly gave out on her as he pushed her against the cave wall, his good hand roughly knocking the berries from her grip as he stared at her hard—his blue eyes flashing bright and nearly livid._

_"What the hell?" she hissed out the question, her head going dizzy and her vision spotting from the suddenness of his actions._

_"Did you eat any of them?" His eyes were no longer on hers, instead he was studying the fallen berries, his face slightly ashen and his nostrils flaring as he breathed in and out heavily—his voice was soft, his tone flat and betraying little emotion._

_"I'm not an idiot." She snapped and raising her hands, she pushed him from her angrily, putting some distance between them. Moving away from him, she tried not to whimper as the last of her strength continued to fade and her vision darkened threateningly, the edges going hazy and unfocused. "I know almost everything in this place can kill you. I'm pretty sure that you pointed out those berries as safe when we first got here. But seeing as though I don't have a goddamned death wish I decided to wait until you were awake to be sure." Frowning she stared at the berries, her throat tightening and her stomach dropping as she considered the possibility that maybe she had been wrong. Maybe her hard work had been for nothing…the berries useless…._

_"They're fine."_

_Whipping her head around, she watched as he straightened himself, brief apology flashing in his cool gaze before it dimmed and faded completely._

_"Excuse me?"_

_"The berries…they're safe to eat."_

_"What?"_

_"They're not poisonous."_

_Her anger spiked, her annoyance flared…he had to be joking._

_"What?"_

_"Bloody hell Swan what do you want me to say…you can eat the blasted things."_

_Shaking her head confused, she narrowed her eyes, leveling him with a disbelieving look as he continued to stare at her, his expression reflecting infuriating indifference as she glared at him somewhat furiously, the urge to deck him coming on her fast and strong. _

_The bastard had rushed her as if she had done something wrong, accusation flashing in his eyes, fear dominating his face; his reaction causing her to once again second-guess herself._

_And she hated it...doubting herself._

_ As the silence dragged on between them, she watched his features slowly soften before with a quick lift of his shoulders, he gave her a somewhat careless shrug. Arching a sharp brow at her, his color slowly went back to normal, his breathing becoming steady once again as he stared at her with a slightly defiant expression. "I hadn't a clue from where I was laying what they were and whether you had eaten any and…" _

_"And I'd say you kinda overreacted there buddy."_

_He grinned at the statement, the smile not quite reaching his eyes as it stretched tight across his lips. And when he began to walk, slowly moving towards her, she tried to tell herself that the way her heart picked up in pace had everything to do with the fact that she had overexerted herself and nothing to do with the way he was looking at her—intense and unblinking._

_"You're still weak kitten."_

_She frowned at the new pet name, rolling her eyes to the cave's ceiling. "I'm fine."_

_ If possible his eyebrows rose higher on his forehead, his expression entirely unimpressed. "Don't lie to me Swan. You're weak…and had those berries been anything different not even the strongest of antidotes could have brought you back to m—" he paused suddenly, his voice dropping off abruptly as an odd hint of red crept up his neck. And clearing his throat, he seemingly collected himself before speaking once again, slight confusion and wonder glittering in his eyes before vanishing fast. "You were lucky, clearly something in this land is looking out for you…don't push your luck darling."_

_Something…or someone?_

_Shaking her head as the odd question appeared suddenly in her thoughts, she stared at him blankly, heat rising to her cheeks, she felt her mouth drop open as his words slowly registered in her somewhat muddled brain. "You—you were worried." She whispered softly, almost without thought, cringing a little as the words left her mouth before she could stop them._

_And as they hung in the air, the silence that followed long and telling, he looked away from her, his eyes focused on the ground between them as his entire body tensed rigidly, a smile tugging at his lips before fading into a small self-deprecating frown. "You act as though it still surprises you…"_

"And here we are."

At the sound of his voice, followed by the soft snapping of a twig next to her, Emma shook her head, pulling herself from her brief reverie, memories of the cave, his dark looks, taunting nicknames and loaded words disappearing as she noticed with some surprise that they had stopped walking.

Panting lightly, more than a little out of breath, she wiped a strand of damp hair from her clammy and sticky face, her fingers shaking slightly as her overheated body struggled with the simple task of staying upright. Shielding her eyes with her hands, a sigh escaped her dry and sun-cracked lips as she glanced up at the clear blue sky before looking back in front of her, surprised by the peaceful and pretty sight that lay before her while all too aware of the masculine presence that stood closely by her side.

Since they had left the cave he had barely let her out of his sight. It was both unsettling and comforting knowing he was always so nearby—his intense and watchful eyes following her constantly, studying her body language and silently determining her wants and needs.

She hated it…the way he continued to read her so easily.

She hated it almost as much as she hated the ambiguity of her goddamned feelings, her ever-changing emotions.

It had been easier when she'd been able to convince herself that she loathed and despised him. It hadn't mattered that there had always been a part of her that had protested the thought, quietly crying foul and stubbornly stating otherwise. She had just simply pushed that part aside, ignoring it and burying it without hesitation, knowing deep down that they were on opposite sides of an age-old war. After all, he had been a villain—teaming up with the wrong people and making poor choices again and again. Back in the Enchanted Forest disregarding him as nothing more than an obstacle getting in the way of reuniting with her son had been a essential, labeling him as a threat to Storybrooke and the people who resided there a necessity

Until quite unexpectedly he wasn't so evil anymore…his path suddenly unclear.

Now…_now_ she couldn't pretend things weren't so murky…that her thoughts and feelings weren't annoyingly complicated.

He kept coming back for her.

He kept saving her.

He was _trying_ to save her son.

_Damn him._

"Pretty isn't it? We're only about a half day's journey from Picaninny land. We need to gather our strength. This is a good place to stop and make camp. We can bathe, eat, rest…"

Drawing her focus back to the scene before her, Emma frowned at Hook's softly spoken words; her eyes taking in the sight of the small alcove in front of them as she considered his suggestions. The area was shaded, the large towering trees blocking out a great deal of the unforgiving sun's heat—the plants underneath a bright and thriving green speckled with a smattering of silky blues and pretty pinks, the flowers some of the biggest she'd ever seen. Boulders with soft looking moss creeping over them in thick layers loomed ahead, almost as if guarding the enclosed sanctuary from any number of Neverland's constant threats, the large rocks beckoning her to sit down and rest her weary body. And directly in front of them, looking almost like a teasing mirage, was what appeared to be a freshwater spring. The water looked clear, cool and inviting_, _trickling over a collection of large stones and gathering into a pond before them_, _it practically begged her to selfishly indulge for a bit.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she turned the idea of bathing with him over in her head, her gaze drifting across the place slowly, as an inexplicable shiver ran down her spine. With the heat continuing to unmercifully pound down on them it was like an unexpected Godsend—the serenity and peaceful tranquility of the sheltered lagoon was almost too inviting, too promising…_too convenient._

A dangerous combination.

"There's no way in hell I'm stepping foot out of my clothes if you're anywhere nearby. I want you out of sight…we bathe separately." Her tone clipped, she put some distance between them as she muttered the words under her breath, a flush creeping across her skin as she said them. And her mind, ever cruel, immediately drifted to the previous times he had unwittingly seen her without proper clothing, reminding her of how exposed and weak she had felt; even as a small part of her stubbornly latched onto the idea of washing up—she could almost feel the cool and refreshing water on her skin.

"Having me out of sight and leaving you defenseless and unarmed hardly seems like a wise idea…I'll have to stand watch my dear...if only for your own safety of course."

_Of course._

She scowled, angered by his words, annoyed by the practicality laced within them, and though she knew they made sense, she refused to give in, the urge to have some kind of control running through her strong. "No."

He sighed softly, his brows knitting together at her defiance, "I won't deny it sweetheart, seeing you in all of your glory is a sight I shall cherish always. However, my intentions are those of a perfect gentleman."

_Lie._

"Sure they are."

"Have I given you any reason to believe otherwise?"

Turning towards him fully, she raised a brow and schooling her features into a look of unimpressed boredom, she took another step back from him for good measure. "Do you want me to answer that truthfully?"

At her cool tone his mouth twitched slightly, lifting into a hint of a smirk before, with a shake of his head, he looked up towards the cloudless sky in an over-exaggerated fashion. "Bloody hell lass…if I haven't thrown you down on the ground and ravished you senseless yet, I'd say your virtue is more than safe with me…you and I both know it." Pausing for a moment, his eyes flickering to the clear and tempting water, he stared at it thoughtfully as he seemingly considered his words—his hook tapping the side of his leg somewhat impatiently in a dull and irregular rhythm as a humored glint crept into his vibrant gaze.

And tired and cranky Emma closed her eyes. Silently counting in her head; she ticked off the seconds as she waited for the more than likely crass comment that was sure to follow. Because God forbid the stupid ass allow himself to appear to be a decent guy for an overly extended period of time.

"How many times do I have to assure you…I've no intentions of getting you naked and on your back Emma. You're perfectly safe with me…" Pausing, he let the assurance hang temptingly in the air, and then, shooting her a devilish grin, he eyed her carefully, slowly, deliberately. _"For now__.__" _

"And there it is," she muttered under her breath, her lips pursing tightly, as she folded her arms across her chest, watching him guardedly with what she hoped appeared to be a look of extreme disinterest.

Because that's what she felt towards him—boredom, indifference, and wariness—the knot in her stomach and tightness in her throat were merely from combined hunger and thirst…_nothing else._

Moving closer to her, he began to invade her personal space, seemingly unconcerned by her scowling features and aggravated glares. Drawing nearer to her with steady and calculated steps, he continued to walk slowly with an eerie grace that was as infuriatingly erotic as it was gravely terrifying—danger and sex radiating from him in dark and exhilarating waves as he lithely and purposefully moved. And lifting her chin and clenching her jaw, it took every ounce of dwindling strength she possessed not to take a step back, even as her heart fluttered uncomfortably against her chest while her eyes struggled to maintain their hazy focus.

"As I've stated before I enjoy a challenge. And you, _kitten,_ have been anything but one these past few days. Your attention is sporadic, your spirit is weak, your light is dim…" He halted briefly and taking a breath, his eyes roamed over her figure idly as his tongue darted out across his lips, lazily wetting them. "I could have you panting and laid beneath me without much thought or effort. And tempting as it is, I'd like a bit more wit in you when you come to your senses and give way to my undeniable charms and…"

Taking another step closer to her, his body just barely touching hers, he left the sentence hanging for a moment. His scent—rum, sweat, and sea—wrapped around her enticingly, the heat only making it that much more intoxicating, before, with a smirk and the beginnings of laughter and lust dusting his tone, he spoke softly, his voice low and deep. "And you finally and completely yield to me."

Eyes widening with his words she blinked up at him dazedly. Hating him at the moment, her hands itched to slap him across the face_, _a violent need to lash out simmering deep inside of her, even as part of her ached for something else, something too frightening and shocking for her to seriously consider—images of his less than subtle suggestions flashing tauntingly in her head; visions of sweating bodies appearing before her eyes while muted sounds of panting breaths and hushed moans echoed in her ears.

And taking a moment, breathing in deeply and clearing her overtired mind, she tried to force herself to not outwardly react to his smoothly spoken power play. Her back straightening, her resolve strengthening, her eyes held his in an unspoken challenge, the cool defiance she saw in his gaze only irritating her even further, pushing her closer to the edge she'd been teetering on since the moment she had desperately stepped foot onto the Jolly Roger.

And as she struggled with her emotions, her surprising reactions and her reluctantly shifting and ever confusing feelings_, _she wasn't sure what annoyed her more; his immodest and brusque words or the fact that he had called her out on her lack of strength, not so subtly hinting at her weakness, the resulting feeling of inferiority making her see red.

She was sick of feeling frail, useless, and out of sorts.

It wasn't who she was…it wasn't _what _she was.

She was a fighter, a survivor…the fucking savior of an entire goddamned realm.

She was ready to even the playing field a bit. If they were stuck together, she couldn't continue to let him have the upper hand. She needed to knock that confident smirk right off his too attractive face while showing him that they were equals. Her need for his overabundant and vital knowledge of Neverland be damned, she wasn't some damsel in distress that he could so easily toy with just because he considered himself essential to the rescue of her son.

The time for following his orders, bending to his will was over.

And really, the only way she knew how to knock him down a few notches was to fight fire with fire. After all, she knew how to deal with men…especially men like _him_. You don't grow up the way she did without learning a few secrets about the opposite sex. You used your brain when possible, a fist as needed, and sex if necessary. And sometimes, in very special, slightly delicate situations…

You used all three.

Raising a brow, a smirk pulling at her lips, Emma moved closer to him, her body pushing up against his as she closed the small space between them with the mere shifting of her hips. And at his sharp intake of breath, she felt a burst of satisfaction explode in her fast; his unconscious reaction a small victory, the clear surprise that flashed across his face enough to make her momentarily forget her relentless fatigue. Lifting a hand, pleased when she noticed it wasn't shaking, she trailed her fingers up his chest leisurely, the gentle and slow contact the first she had _willingly _made with him since coming to the fabled land—the realization sending a thrill shooting through her even as shrill warning bells sounded loudly in her head.

_What the hell was she doing? _

Shifting her body against his once more so that they were lightly pressed together, she continued to hold his stare, noticing with slight wonder that the blue of his eyes had deepened and darkened considerably—his features tight and unreadable. For a moment she forgot what she was doing, that she was trying to gain the upper-hand, for a few brief seconds she found herself quite suddenly lost in the seemingly endless depths of his unyielding stare. Blinking, once, blowing out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she mentally scolded herself, refusing to allow her actions to backfire on her. Despite everything that had happened since they had come to Neverland, she needed to show him that two could play at his game of cat and mouse, give and take, push and pull.

A thin smile spreading across her lips, Emma gripped his shirt tightly, her chin lifting higher as her heart pounded rapidly against her ribcage. "Careful_ pirate_…" she murmured the words softly, her voice low and barely above a whisper, ghosted across his lips and lingered between them airily drawing her attention to his mouth for a moment before with another smirk and a soft breath she met his stare boldly once more, his brows narrowing with the action as a dangerous glint lit his eyes.

"New dance Swan?" Hook spoke low, his voice taking on a husky note as he continued to stare at her unblinkingly, the feel of his body going rigid beneath her hands unmistakable.

Tilting her head to the side, she reveled in the fact that she had finally succeeded in surprising him; she wasn't the only one who could be so jarringly thrown off balance. And stubbornly she pushed away the voice in her head that was screaming at her for being reckless, accusing her of being stupid and thoughtless…

_There were other dangers that lurked in Neverland, dangers that had nothing to do with plants and heat, wolves and hovering shadows._

"Same old dance, just adding a few new steps."

"Curious."

Her smirk turned into an outright smile, and pushing against his chest hard, she made to brush by him, believing she had thoroughly shocked him into brief submission, hoping he would stumble back unthinkingly. After all, men like him who constantly made crude implications and rough suggestions were usually all talk, no action—the minute someone stepped up to them with a taste of their own medicine was the moment they backed down. So when he refused to budge, staying firmly in place, she couldn't help the annoyance that spiked hot inside her, her irritation only burning brighter as he wrapped an arm around her waist in a quick and unanticipated movement—his hook resting at her side, the heavy metal both warm and threatening.

"Going so soon love? And here I thought we were just getting started…" His eyes gleamed with challenge, his mocking smile calling her bluff as he raised a pointed brow—the smoothness of his words and steadiness in his tone infuriating her further.

_Stupid, stupid pirate. _She'd been pushed to her limits one too many times.

Her free hand moving slowly, she leaned into him lightly, momentarily distracting him with her body as she sought the dagger at her belt, relief and excitement skittering through her as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the blade. Pulling it out with the barest hint of movements, she grinned up at him charmingly, the smile bringing a look of confusion to his face before quickly, almost comically being replaced by cool awareness as she rested the weapon against his side, mimicking the pressure of his hook against her body with a gentle tilt of her wrist.

"Move." She whispered the word low—the heat in the simple request undeniable.

Surprise and appreciation dawning slowly across his features, Hook chuckled deep, clearly both impressed and amused by her sudden change in behavior. His eyes drifting between them to the blade she had pressing into his side, he nodded his head once before meeting her eyes, the intensity of his stare somewhat disturbing. "Seems like the kitten has found her claws once again." And still keeping his gaze on hers, the tension between them near palpable, he stepped back slowly, releasing her waist from his hold as he moved away from her.

_Triumph. _

Feeling more than a little lightheaded, she cleared her throat, adrenaline bubbling up in her and buzzing through her veins fast. Despite her fatigue, her fear and worry about both Henry's and her parent's safety, she couldn't help but feel alive at the moment. It was the first time in days that she had truly acted like herself—going toe-to-toe with Hook and coming out on top.

Riding the thrill of victory, she turned from him fast. And breathing in the stifling air, the heat once again making itself known, she became more aware of their sweltering surroundings as she blinked against the harsh light that shone down around them. With a glare and a sigh she glanced up at the blazing sun, frowning as a trickle of sweat made it's way down her neck—the suffocating feel of her clothes damp and tight against her skin becoming almost unbearable.

Suddenly, she had enough.

Still riding high from her intense and heated moment with Hook, she hastily decided that she was done being a slave to Neverland—its dangers and limitless risks. Regardless of her disadvantages and her lack of knowledge; from now on every decision, every action she made would be her choice and hers alone. She would rescue her son, she would find her parents, and she'd do it the way she'd done everything else in her life…

On her terms.

And redirecting her focus to the lagoon, Emma felt the beginnings of a smirk tug at her mouth as she moved towards the spring fast—her purpose in mind, and her destination in sight. Sticking her knife in the ground, she began to unlace her pants, her fingers shaking slightly even as she walked towards the water at a brisk no-nonsense pace. And as her feet shuffled through the damp ground, the green grass becoming springy and soft the closer she got to the water's edge, she barely gave herself the time to think as she came to a halt in front of it.

"What are you doing?"

He called to her from a few feet behind, his voice low and his tone slightly incredulous. Ignoring it, she bent down and grabbed one heeled boot in hand; yanking it off her foot, she hurriedly moved to the other, removing it just as fast. Discarding both shoes over her shoulder with a careless toss, she focused on her pants and wiggled out of them, her sweaty body making the task more difficult than she would have liked. When finally she'd rid herself of them, and stood with only her borrowed shirt covering her clammy skin, she sucked in a breath and gripped the hem before pulling it over her head in one rapid motion.

_Free._

She felt free.

And she also felt like she was losing it…on the verge of a total meltdown.

Straightening, standing stark naked, she allowed the hot sun to heat her body for a moment, disregarding the pirate at her back that was getting a full view of nearly everything she had to offer. If the bastard was going to see her naked it was going to be because it was of _her own_ doing, not because he was pulling her from the water, or saving her from a poisonous plant, or being an insufferable ass who took some sick enjoyment out of taunting and teasing her.

_Her terms._

"What are you playing at Swan?"

His voice was gruff, the shock in his tone a thrill in and of itself. And still refusing to turn to him, she took in the sight of the sparkling water before her, her smirk turning into a slightly crazed smile as she ignored the panicked voices in her head, that were trying to keep up with her unexpected actions.

"I'm going to bathe Hook."

"A bloody warning would be nice. I thought you didn't want me anywhere near—"

"No." she interrupted him quickly, and glancing over her shoulder she stared at him long and hard, waiting patiently as his eyes drifted up her body unashamedly before meeting hers. _Some gentleman._ "Change of plans."

Moving forward she didn't bother to wait for his response. Walking into the spring she allowed it to rush over her feet, her calves, up her knees until finally it reached her waist, the coldness of the water shocking her and nearly stealing her breath. Turning around, she saw with surprising amusement and a prickling hint of fear that he had moved to the water's edge and was still staring at her, his gaze never drifting from her, his eyes never blinking. And holding them, once again refusing to back down, no longer feeling weak and feeble, she dipped lower still, her body disappearing inch by inch, the sight of him standing in front of her becoming nothing more than a wavering and fading image as she slowly and purposefully vanished beneath the cool surface of the inviting and soothing spring.

* * *

It felt like she had been in the water for hours.

Resurfacing, Emma drew in a breath; her eyes immediately finding Hook she noted with a dim sense of satisfaction and a surprising sliver of disappointment that he had walked away from the water and over to a nearby boulder and was leaning against it in a position that appeared slightly lazy and almost relaxed—his hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes straight ahead. He wasn't turned from her completely, if he wanted to, all he had to do was merely tilt his head to the side and he'd have a clear view of her. But even so, his gaze remained firmly on the trees in front of him, his fingers resting on his weapon. Though he appeared at ease she knew that he was ready to strike, prepared to fight.

For her.

_For them._

And dipping lower into the water she shook her head, frowning softly at the thought.

"You've two more minutes lass."

Rather than argue with him, she breathed in deeply and sunk beneath the surface again, her previous actions catching up to her as she fully and finally realized that yes, she had indeed stripped in front of him without second thought. And quickly, almost desperately she tried to blame the heat, the poison, the enchanted land—the combination of things causing her to act irrationally.

She had just been tired of doing things without having any say or control over them, following Hook blindly and obeying his every command. It had caught up to her, driving her to do something rash and unreasonable. And while it was something she was sure she'd regret even more later...for now she refused to dwell on it, for now was going to just continue to enjoy the cool water.

_Two more minutes her ass._

Feeling the familiar burning sensation in her chest as her body protested the lack of oxygen, she straightened her legs again, lifting her head above the water in one fluid motion.

"I don't suppose you have any soap with you." she called to him, keeping her body concealed by the water and raising a brow in question as he turned to look at her.

Appraising her coolly, Hook stared at her a moment, before with a devastating grin and a quick wink, he twisted his body, fetching something from the satchel he wore at his side. Turning back around, he faced her, and raising his good hand she saw that he held up something small and white...something that very closely resembled the bar soap Mary Margaret had given her only days ago.

"Are you serious?"

"Is there a problem darling?"

She scowled, her eyes narrowing with the action. "You had that the whole time and you weren't going to tell me."

Stepping towards the water he shrugged, appearing unapologetic. "Pirate." and with a small smirk he tossed the soap at her, his grin widening when she straightened to catch it, rising fully from the spring and completely exposing herself.

"Ass." she muttered under her breath as she settled back into the water, annoyed with herself for accidentally giving him yet another unintentional peep show.

"Pirate." he merely said again, and glancing back towards the trees, he studied them a moment. "You've one more minute Swan."

Rolling her eyes at his words, annoyed that he was still telling her what to do, she began soaping her body up. Turning her back towards him, she told herself she didn't give a rats ass if he was looking at her or not. She was taking control back, she had chosen to bathe in front of him, if he wanted to watch her like a creep that was his problem, she really didn't care.

And stubbornly she ignored the small part of her that stated otherwise.

Washing her hair, knowing full well that she was taking longer than the minute he had given her, she massaged her scalp leisurely, the scent and feel of soap on her skin invigorating her senses as she continued to lather and wash herself thoroughly. Finally when she had scrubbed herself as clean and raw as possible, she dipped back into the water, rinsing off before surfacing once again. And as the hot air met her lungs, and her eyes slowly focused, she noticed with a combination of shock, dismay, and annoyance that Hook had begun to remove his own clothes, anger shooting through her fast at the realization.

Seemingly sensing her stare, he glanced up from his task of unbuttoning his shirt, the fact that he could so nimbly navigate his fingers surprising her as she studied him quietly.

"You're being quite selfish kitten."

"Don't call me that."

Grinning, the entire smile lighting his features, he shrugged out of his shirt, and it took everything in her not to avert her eyes, instead keeping her stare unblinkingly on his. She had seen her share of half-naked men before. Hell, she had seen _him_ half naked before.

"I gave you two more minutes, the longer we linger in the water the more we put ourselves at risk."

_Right._

Silently damning him to hell, she stood up straight, satisfaction settling inside of her as his eyes widened at the sight of her rising from the water. And knowing she was quite possibly acting stupidly once again but unable to bring herself to care, she slowly made her way out of the water—walking towards him deliberately as the spring stirred around her. It was satisfying catching him off guard. Whether she was losing her mind or not, the slight thrill it gave her was something she couldn't deny.

Coming to a stop in front of him, her nakedness completely revealed as glistening droplets fell from her skin, she slapped the soap against his chest hard, his hand coming up to grasp it and catching hers in the process, holding her against his skin. And as his fingers curled around both the soap and her hand, it took every ounce of strength she possessed not pull her arm away immediately, jumping back as if she'd been burned.

"Dangerous game _Swan._" The warning in his tone was clear as day, woven softly through his smooth and steady voice.

And hearing it she decidedly and stubbornly ignored the slight threat, staring up at him with rebellion glittering in her gaze. "You have five minutes _Captain_. And then you're going to show me how to make a trap, and while _I'm_ catching us dinner, you're going to tell me a little bit more about where my son might be, why exactly the Picaninny can be trusted and this goddamned shadow you're so intent on hiding from."

Without another word, she yanked her hand away from him, and brushed past him fast. And making her way towards her clothes, she couldn't help but feel relieved when she heard the gentle swishing of the water behind her as he waded into the spring, giving her some distance and once again allowing her the slight upper-hand...

For now.

* * *

**Review?!**

**Next chapter we find out more about The Lost Ones, wonder a bit more about the shadow and we're probably going to meet the Picaninny and ohhhh I don't know something _else_ might happen ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the double notification for updates and for those who tried to read it last night...I'm not sure what happened. But here it is again, hopefully it works!**

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**Hope you enjoy this chapter. Sorry for the delay. Love you guys. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.**

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* * *

She was going to throw something.

Or hit something.

Or both.

Staring down at the sticks and wire Hook had given her after a brief instructional on how to make a trap, Emma chewed on her lower lip lightly, trying to recall his seemingly simple directions. Her mind drifting to the way he had hovered over her, patiently explaining the trap to her as she had sat on the ground, she shifted her position uncomfortably, attempting to refocus her thoughts as she remembered how irritated she had been at his close and overwhelming proximity. There had been absolutely no need for him to brush up against her, his fingers, hook, and teeth effortlessly and easily working the objects into a snare, his breath tickling her ear as he demonstrated his technique. To make matters worse, he had smelled _good_, clean_..._invitingly so—the lavender of the bar soap from his bath mingling with a scent that was entirely male and uniquely his.

Considering the wire for a moment, she hesitantly grabbed it off the ground, attempting to force down the simmering of frustration that was threatening to bubble over into a rolling boil as she picked up a stick with her free hand before placing both objects back down again with a silent curse. She was completely and undeniably lost; her task proving to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated. With the sun slowly setting, and her desire to eat something of substance beginning to settle heavily upon her, she couldn't help but feel the growing and nagging pressure.

"Idiot." She muttered under her breath, unsure if she was talking about herself for claiming that she could learn how to set a trap and catch them a decent dinner all in the time span of a couple of hours, or Hook who was leaning carelessly against a tree only a few feet behind her, humming softly to himself some unfamiliar yet haunting tune. Pushing back her damp hair, her body still blissfully cool from her swim in the spring, she picked up the stick again and began to bend it slowly, attempting to manipulate it into the arch that Hook had shown her how to make, cursing when the stick snapped under her unsteady fingers.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Problem kitten?"

"I swear to God if you call me that one more time…" she left the sentence hanging there, unsure exactly what threat she would have followed it up with anyway—a small smirk dusting her lips as images of slamming her fist into his smug face flashed in her head in clear and satisfying sequence. Picking up another stick she blew out a breath; inhaling slowly and exhaling again, she calmed herself and focused on the trap once more, trying her best to block thoughts of him from her mind—but with him hovering so nearby it was a task easier said than done.

She was undeniably distracted.

Since her little stunt at the lagoon Hook had been alternating between being distant and suffocating. Even while he seemingly made every effort to keep his distance when possible; his eyes held an unmistakable gleam, his voice a taunting note while his suggestions had become even more frequent, his words slightly more obnoxious. Part of her complained he was being an ass, his innuendos getting tiring, while another part pouted that she deserved it, her slight tantrum at the spring was bound to bring out the worst in him.

Regardless of what she thought of _him_, she knew_ her_ actions from earlier had been reckless—she certainly didn't want or _need_ to stoke the flames of their bizarre and heated relationship.

Something was simmering between them, something powerful and unspoken.

She knew it wasn't normal, the way her heart pounded every time they came in close contact. She knew it wasn't right the way her eyes appreciated his well-muscled body as it carefully manipulated its way through the forest. She knew it was odd the way her brain screamed villain while her heart stubbornly argued otherwise. She knew it was scary the way she had steadily and unthinkingly come to rely on him.

_Terrifying._

_Dangerous._

_Stupid._

Annoyed with her wandering thoughts, Emma frowned tightly, and needing a distraction, she silently reminded herself of Henry and her parents, Gold and Regina and the dangers that lurked nearly everywhere—poisonous plants, hungry beasts, and powerful shadows...a chill coursing through her as she considered the latter.

Sighing softly at her thoughts, realizing that if anything they were doing little to distract her and in fact were only providing her with more to worry about, she tried to push images of her son's terrified face from her head and attempted to block out the sounds of her parent's desperate cries from her ears. Sometimes, during moments like this, as a cold and desperate feeling slowly spread through her veins, she wondered how far she was from truly breaking; twenty-eight years of fighting catching up to her, the lure to give up nearly too great to resist any longer.

_Quitter._

_Weak._

_Pathetic._

Scowling, tired and hungry and now emotionally distraught, Emma shook her head, somewhat disgusted with herself for her vulnerable musings. Her eyes burning hot and her vision hazing, she glanced down at the ground, and blinking once and tilting her head to the side, she stared blankly, confusion and surprise swimming in her head.

"Huh." she mused, an unconscious smile forming on her lips.

She had successfully triggered the snare.

Her trap while not looking exactly like Hook's appeared worthy of doing its job, her fingers seemingly effortlessly able to put it together while her mind had aimlessly wandered.

"I did it." She whispered softly, her smile stupidly spreading across her features as a surge of pride welled up inside of her.

"So you did darling."

Glancing over her shoulder Emma narrowed her eyes, annoyed with herself for allowing Hook to sneak up on her. Where only seconds ago he had been leaning against the tree, he was now hovering over her, peering past her shoulder and inspecting her work closely, his eyes roaming over the snare carefully, critically.

Not wanting him to see how pleased she was, she glanced back at the trap; and composing her features and ridding herself of the smile that still threatened her lips, she shot another quick look behind her, pushing down the surprising and near desperate need for his approval that had snuck up on her fast. "So how does this work? How long do you think we'll have to wait until we can eat?"

At her question, Hook's eyes drifted from the trap to her, a glimmer of mischief sparking in them as a slow smile spread across his face. "Not long at all darling, a trap I set earlier snagged a rabbit not too long ago."

"_What?"_

Turning from her, his smile still hanging on his lips, he began to leisurely walk towards the spring, making his way to where they had set up camp. His stride easy and fluid, he moved as if he hadn't just dismissed all the time and effort she had put into the _fucking thing _with a few careless and flippant words.

"What the hell Hook…why—why didn't you say something?"

Shrugging, he cast an unapologetic look over his shoulder, his eyes still bright with light humor. "Sweetheart, just be happy we won't have to force more berries and weeds down our throats tonight, eh?" Giving her a quick wink, he continued walking, seemingly not hearing or purposely ignoring the soft curse she muttered under her breath at him as he moved out of earshot.

It was typical.

So fucking typical.

Finally she had felt as if she had contributed _something, _finally she had felt beneficial..._useful_...only to have his knowledge and expertise once again make her feel off-balanced—an insecure voice whispering her skills were weak and indispensable.

Sighing, a tight and heavy feeling of disappointment weighing in her chest, she went to push herself off the ground, glancing down at her useless trap as she shifted, the childish urge to smash it taking her by surprise_._ And more than a little frustrated, somewhat embarrassed by the impulse, she got to her feet quickly, brushing the loose and sparkling dirt from her pants as she rose.

What mattered was that she had done it, that she had proved to herself that_ she could_.

And squaring her shoulders and setting her teeth, she attempted to disregard how quickly her satisfaction at her success had faded into a stabbing and painful feeling of incompetence.

It shouldn't matter to her whether she impressed him with her abilities.

It shouldn't bother her that he seemed indifferent towards her willingness to learn.

It shouldn't annoy her that he was comfortable and almost at ease in a land that was constantly making her feel insignificant and irrelevant.

But it did.

_Goddamnit it did._

Clearing her throat as she came into the clearing, Emma watched as he quickly set to work making a fire, his fingers quick and sure; his eyes focused on his task, he barely paid her any attention.

Or so she thought.

"You're angry."

Raising a brow at the confidently spoken statement, she crossed her arms over her chest and continued to study the way he worked, taking note of his actions as she realized with slight irritation that for the past few days she'd been letting him build all the fires, never once paying attention to how he did it—the realization bringing a slew of profanities to the tip of her tongue as a strong feeling of ineptness slowly spread through her.

"You're a quick learner Swan, smart, resourceful…you did well with the trap, might even catch us something for the morning." Working steadily, he dug a groove into a sturdy and dry branch with a sharp and smooth rock and glancing up, he met her eyes for a moment, a spark of admiration lighting his gaze. "I've seen many a man crumble under the pressures and hardships of this land…the heat, the beasts, the plants. It takes quite the strong will to last as long as you have. This place is not for the weak and you've bested death on more than one occasion now…" he paused and looking down he smirked mirthlessly at the ground, studying it intently for a moment before returning his gaze to hers. "You even managed to save my worthless life while you were at it…a questionable, possibly stupid feat, yet honorable all the same." His following chuckle was dark, the laughter ringing hollow in her ears as he found ominous humor in his softly spoken words.

_Worthless._

It was odd that he could he think that…that he could_ believe _it so easily; the way his voice took on a bitter note more than a little unsettling as his statement hung stiffly in the heat laced air between them.

Blinking down at him, her brow furrowing and a slight frown forming on her lips, Emma tensed as he held her stare, the vivid blue burning into her tired gaze hotly, the exhausted contempt she saw there taking her aback. It was scary seeing the pure loathing he had for himself hidden in his wary eyes. And what was even more frightening was her sudden and strong urge to stomp it out and soothe it better; wanting him to see what she saw, what she was slowly coming to realize even as her heart and head battled it. Biting on the inside of her cheek, a prickle of nervous uncertainty slithered its way up her spine as she turned his encouraging words laced with cynical self-hate over in her mind. She wanted to say something—part of her wanting to spit out a comment about how what he was doing for her _mattered _while another part urged her to point out that she didn't need his approval, he didn't need to dance over the fact that she was more than a little out of sorts.

_She was the weaker link of the two._

But unable to find the right words and unwilling to speak the ones she could come up with, instead she continued to meet his sharp gaze—the unspoken words falling flat and silent as the moment drifted away.

Still she felt something pass between them, understanding, acceptance..._gratitude._

Finally, mercifully, he looked away, and Emma watched as he grabbed another stick and began to rub it at an angle in the groove he had dug out on the branch—his movements fast and steady and concentrated. With his attention focused elsewhere, the intense and telling moment gone, she felt herself breathe easier, the tension in her body lessening slightly.

"Don't ever doubt your abilities darling. I've yet to meet a man or woman with your conviction, your courage and passion...to be honest I'm rather impressed with—"

"Stop." She cut him off quick, embarrassed by his quietly spoken words, uncomfortable by the fact that he felt the need to speak them—the praise making her feel fragile and unstable even while a hint of appreciation simmered deep inside of her. "I don't need to be coddled."

Never pausing in his actions, Hook continued to rub the sticks together, his eyes flashing up to hers again as she lifted her chin and narrowed her gaze, refusing to look away as he openly stared. Something unreadable sparking across his features, he studied her for a moment, the sounds of the sticks scraping together and the gentle lapping of water from the nearby spring all that could be heard as the stifling air grew thicker between them.

"Aye…" he murmured softly, his lips twitching upwards, "That you don't lass."

Hearing the soft note of respect in his voice, the way his gaze gentled slightly, once again uncomfortable, Emma tore her eyes away from him, shaking her head and flexing her hand as her fingers itched to do something—the need to keep herself busy as he continued to work on the fire running through her strong.

"Listen, I know I've been struggling since the poison but I'm stronger now and just—just…" she swallowed her words trailing off as she surveyed the area around them, the welcoming smell of smoke drifting to her nose as she watched the sun begin to fade—the cloudless sky darkening above them glowed a deep burnt red with streaks of shimmering gold...an unsurprisingly breathtaking sight. "What can I do? To help…to pull my weight."

"You don't need to prove yourself Emma…I'm more than aware of your competence."

"I know that." She snapped, her voice coming out a hiss as her cheeks flushed hot—annoyance and embarrassment colliding together inside of her in a confusion mess of stubborn emotions.

And still unable to look at him, she kept her eyes fixed above, unwilling to let him see how badly she needed this, wanting to prove that she was capable of doing more than following him around, stripping naked, and almost getting herself killed—her protesting brain pointing out that she had saved him from the wolves, reminding her that she had survived both the deadly poison and the dangerous antidote's wrath.

She was a survivor.

She was a fighter.

She was strong and competent and skilled. She had outsmarted and bested numerous men and women, she had defeated mythical creatures and villains alike and she had gotten by on her own for most of her screwed up and dysfunctional life.

And she had done it all with very little help.

Despite the fact that she knew almost nothing of Neverland, regardless of the poison that had coursed through her veins mere days ago, weakening her system, delaying her plans, and attempting to prove her worthless, she wasn't frail or delicate.

_She was the goddamned savior._

Turning her gaze back to him, both impressed and annoyed to see that a small flame was already peeking through the dry brush he had placed over the smoke, she watched as he blew on it softly, forcing back the envy she felt at his skill. "Just…dammit just give me something to do Hook."

Looking up at her, his eyes shone bright and curious, the look only briefly shadowed by the barest hint of concern before it disappeared entirely. His lips kicking up into a slight grin, she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke next; the mischief and humor back once again. "Oh there's _plenty _you could do darling."

_Bastard. _

Clenching her teeth together and raising a brow, she glared down at him defiantly, briefly seeing red. "I swear to God if you follow that up with something even remotely vulgar I'm going to kill—"

His deep chuckle cut her off, the sound soft, somewhat musical, and genuinely amused; not at all like his dark laugh from before. "Such strong words coming from a woman who not too long ago was prancing around with not a stitch of clothing on." At her low warning growl, he merely smirked, his eyes following her movements as her hand reflexively moved to the blade at her side. "Bloody hell, relax kitten, I've no intentions of sparring with you at the moment." Taking the time to add more dried leaves to the small and sparking fire, he concentrated on the growing flames, coaxing them higher, before he spoke again. "You want to prove yourself useful eh?"

"I want to help."

He nodded at her simple words, understanding crossing his features. "Grab that sack over there by the boulder, you'll find the rabbit in it."

Relaxing slightly, her hand dropping from her side, she followed his line of vision to the large rock, taking notice of the small burlap sack that lay on the ground. "You want me to cook it?" she asked, her teeth finding her lower lip as she turned back to him, watching as he smoothly got to his feet. His eyes flitting from the fire to hers, he gave her an infuriating grin, the smile sending up red warning flags as she considered the bag once again.

True, she had spent most her life taking care of herself as best as she could but domestic skills were something she admittedly lacked. Popping open a can of soup and stirring it over the stove was about as far as her expertise in the kitchen went, ordering take-out another skill she had successfully and easily mastered. _Still,_ her eyes darting from the bag then back to him quickly, she considered the idea—roasting an animal over a fire couldn't be _that_ hard.

"Sure...I can cook it."

Smiling, his teeth flashing white, Hook made his way over to her, a black brow shooting upwards as she went to take a small step back, the dark challenge shimmering in the blue depths of his gaze halting her almost immediately. Reaching for his belt with his good hand, he pulled out a dagger. And in a move that was quick and fluid and unexpected, he shot out his other hand and grabbed her wrist with his hook, his eyes meeting hers as she snapped her gaze to his.

"I wouldn't dare be so chauvinistic as to suggest such a thing kitten." He murmured quietly, the cool metal of his hook pressing into her wrist lightly, the feel of steel against skin sending a rising wave of goosebumps dancing down her arm.

_God_, she wanted to pull away from him, she wanted curse him out for the stupid nickname, she wanted to hate him vehemently for the way her pulse leapt at his touch—her head going somewhat foggy as her body flushed hot. Swallowing, her throat suddenly feeling thick and tight, Emma wet her lips carefully, noting the way he followed the path of her tongue as she did. "Fine...what do you want me to do then?" she despised the way her voice came out low, her words softly spoken and matching his quiet tone as her eyes unwittingly drifted to his mouth before quickly shifting back to his.

His gaze searing into hers unblinkingly, he leaned towards her slowly, his breath flitting across her face as he placed his dagger into her hand, a wayward hint of a grin pulling at his features. "I want you to skin us a rabbit princess."

With his body so close and his voice so low, it took her a moment to fully register his words, but when she did, she felt her mouth drop open as revulsion rose from her gut. _"W-what?"_

Saying nothing, his grin broadening slowly, he gave her a pointed and knowing look, her surprise clearly something he had been aiming for. Humor evident on his face, his eyes sparkling with challenge, he raised his brows and gestured to the dagger before moving away from her, walking towards the fire without a backwards glance.

Looking down at the knife in her hand, Emma felt her lips curl into a scowl, her eyes flashing to the bag with the dead animal in it before moving back to him, watching as he fed the flames in a lazy and unconcerned fashion, continuing with the same song he had been humming not too long ago. And feeling her stomach flip a little at the thought of ridding the animal of its hide—images of cute little garden rabbits flashing in her head followed by raw meat and blood and guts— she sneered lightly. The glower only deepening as she realized that like most means of survival in Neverland she'd have to ask him for help—skinning animals was not high on her lists of seemingly useless talents.

With a curse, she stalked her way to the boulder. Tightening her grip on her dagger, she snagged the bag with more flourish than necessary, the feel of the dead weight both disgusting her and pleasing her. Opening it and glancing down at the furry brown heap that was stuffed inside, her stomach turned again and her mouth began to water as a feeling of nausea swam over her in sickening waves—her body cooling down considerably as a cold sweat swept over her skin.

_She would not get sick._

Her eyes darting back to Hook, she saw with little surprise that he was sitting back on his heels and watching her, his expression completely impassive as he eyed her with their dinner. Briefly, she wondered if he thought she could do it, if he believed her capable of stepping so far outside her realm of comfort. And stubbornly she ignored the voice in her head that whispered _of course_ _he did_, deep down inside she knew it. Even if she had questioned it only moments ago; his faith in her abilities was rarely lacking even as he guided her through Neverland in the most unconventional, challenging, and infuriating of ways.

He knew she could handle it.

He expected no less.

And making her way back towards him, she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze dead-on in an unwavering stare.

She was going to strip every last piece of fur off the stupid thing…

And she was going to do it without losing her goddamned breakfast.

* * *

Watching as Hook snuffed out the last of the fire, Emma rubbed her arms absently, a slight frown forming on her lips as it was extinguished. She hated to lose the light the fire had provided but Hook had insisted on getting rid of it almost immediately after they had eaten, pointing out the flames could attract unwanted attention. Of course he was right, she knew that; the last thing they needed was to bring whatever enemies happened to be skulking in the forest or hovering in the sky, directly to their camp. Still, even though the air was warm and the heat from the flames was unnecessary, she wished they could have kept the fire going for just a little while longer.

The night appeared less ominous and a little safer with the light there cutting through the seemingly endless darkness.

Cringing a little as her stomach flipped and grumbled, protesting their latest meal, she pulled her gaze from the fading flames and blew out a shaky breath as a slight feeling of queasiness crept up on her. The tough and gamey rabbit meat was not sitting well in her system—the fact unsurprising as pictures of her sharpened dagger slicing through the furry hide flashed in her head sickeningly. It was the knowledge that she had needed the protein and nutrients that had driven her to eat as much of their dinner as possible, something she now regretted as her stomach lurched threateningly. Raising her eyes to the dark night sky, watching as the stars twinkled and glittered above, she sighed softly. And breathing in the warm air, she tried to calm her angry stomach, settling against the boulder at her back as she shifted on the ground beneath her.

"You should get some sleep sweetheart, I'll take first watch tonight."

Drawing her attention to Hook as he stood a few feet away from her, staring at the still smoldering embers, she studied him a moment. In the darkness his guard seemed to be lowered a bit more, his features appeared less tight and drawn. Somehow he looked both younger and older; his attractive and roguish looks open and honest betraying an old and unspoken pain.

_He was exhausted._

"I'm not really tired right now, you sleep."

A smirk twitched his lips as he looked up from the smoke, his bright eyes finding hers across the dying fire. "Gods but you're a stubborn lass."

Meeting his stare head on, she found herself unwillingly giving him a hesitant smile, her shoulders lifting in a small and careless shrug as his smirk grew into a wide and companionable grin. As silence lingered between them, the quiet not entirely uncomfortable, Emma looked away, her eyes scanning the area around them—the dark trees, the gentle spring—her ears picked up on the soft sounds of the night as her gaze continued to drift. And drinking in the sights and sounds surrounding her, lazily she allowed her mind to wander, the noises becoming a dull hum as the view in front of her dimmed into a mesh of dark grays and blacks. Under normal circumstances the scene wouldn't have been entirely unwelcoming—sitting near a dying fire on a warm and clear night.

Until she had unwittingly stumbled across Storybrooke and its unusual inhabitants she had never been camping before.

And pausing for a moment, she considered the thought. She had lived in dingy and dirty apartments, she had slept in a slew of undesirable places. Hell, she had even lived out of her car. But up until she had been sucked through the portal, landing right smack in the middle of the Enchanted Forest, she had never roughed it in the wilderness.

And it struck her funny that the realization suddenly came to her at that moment.

Because now, _now _she was bathing in streams, picking wild fruit and skinning the fucking Easter Bunny for dinner…in_ Neverland_…with _Captain Hook_ as her guide. It was ridiculous. Insane. And unable to stop it, a tiny laugh escaped her, the sound coming out as an undignified and muffled snort.

"Is there a problem love?"

Glancing over at Hook, she saw that his brow was narrowed in slight bewilderment and he was looking down at her with an expression that was both expectant and curious—his stance somewhat tense. And realizing she had no clue how to explain her disturbingly amusing thoughts to him, she simply shook her head, another small chuckle escaping her as he arched a brow.

"It's nothing I'm just…" feeling the urge to laugh creep up on her again, she clamped down on the inside of her cheek, biting it harshly, briefly wondering if this was what a semi-hysterical melt-down felt like. "I'm just…" she rolled her eyes, her shoulders shaking slightly, she tried to contain her laughter as her mind wandered to earlier in the evening when she'd been cursing a limp animal body and holding back the urge to vomit as Hook had calmly instructed where and how she should cut it, patiently demonstrating his technique as she had struggled not to cringe and wince. "I'm just…" her words broke off on a stinted laugh, and bringing a hand to her head she rubbed her eyes as she tried to contain another snicker. "Jesus Christ I'm…"

"Tired."

She looked at him, watching as concern etched itself into his features, his eyes searching her face as yet another unintentional giggle bubbled up from her throat, the sound gurgled and broken.

"You need rest Emma."

The words caused her to pause, the tender affection and gentle trepidation woven in them thoroughly surprising her. And uneasy with the wary and soft look he was giving her; she sobered abruptly, her misplaced amusement dying away quickly. "Sorry…I'm—I'm fine."

His lips pursing, he drew his good hand to his chin; and scratching his stubble absently, he smothered the remaining embers with his boot, giving them a few quick stomps. "It won't kill you."

Smirking, she watched as a flutter of sparks flew into the air. "What?"

"Opening up to me."

His words quiet, the proposal striking a chord in her, she looked away from him, focusing her attention on her hands as she folded them together in her lap, grasping them tightly as a strong feeling of resentment swept over her fast.

This again?

He was the last person she needed to take advice from.

And she pushed away the part of her that wanted to heed his suggestion, desperate to drop some of her already wavering defenses. Instead she focused on the other, more guarded, heavily suspicious part as it whispered warnings in her head—feeding off her trust issues and maliciously reminding her of the pirate's past transgressions.

Staring blankly at her clasped hands, studying the scratches and bruises that marred her lightly tanned skin, Emma drew in a breath before looking back up at him. Suddenly uncomfortable that he was still standing, feeling unbalanced and at a disadvantage sitting on the ground while he hovered, she straightened her spine and raised her chin.

"Opening up huh?"

"Wouldn't hurt darling."

She nodded at that, a tight smile that threatened to flatten into a grimace tugging at her lips. "That could go both ways." she murmured softly, watching his face as she spoke.

Brief amusement flashing across his features, he crossed his arms over his chest casually, rocking back on his heels as he swiped his tongue over his teeth, drawing his lower lip into his mouth in a move that she swore was deliberate. "That so?"

She forced another smile and holding his eyes, shrugged, mentally demanding that she relax her features—he read her too well, was too aware of when she was uneasy. "I told you I wanted to hear more about the Shadow…" she informed him, smoothly turning the conversation from herself to him. "I think it's time you gave me more details."

"Ahhhh." His stance didn't change; his tone soft and steady, he betrayed little to her as he seemingly considered her words. And as he did, so quick that she almost missed it, she saw the vaguest hint of apprehension flicker in his gaze.

He didn't want to talk about it.

"I told you earlier I wanted to know more Hook."

"So you did." His tone still light, his eyes looked anywhere but directly at her.

_He was avoiding her._

"Hook," she started softly, surprised by the gentleness in her voice, curious why she felt the need to broach the topic carefully, "I need more to go off of here. We've barely discussed the Shadow."

"Yes well I suppose attempting to survive has delayed the conversation eh?"

She ignored him, the slight bitterness in his tone somewhat off-putting, a pinch of alarm digging deep in her gut. "You need to tell me everything you know about it, what we're dealing with. We should have had this conversation a long time ago. Henry's out there and…." Her voice trailed off slowly, thoughts of her son facing some unknown and faceless threat causing her throat to close up on her momentarily as her vision wavered briefly. "Please."

At her words, her soft request, something unreadable flashed across his face; and looking down at her hard and unblinkingly, his eyes intense and brilliantly blue darkened as a storm of emotions raged in their sea-colored depths. "What do you want to know Swan?"

More than a little exasperated by the softly spoken question, she threw her hands up in the air, momentarily forgetting her gentle approach. She hadn't a clue what she wanted to know about the mysterious creature—everything and nothing, all of it and more. "I don't know! Everything! _Anything_…just give me something. Who is it? What is it? Is Henry in danger?"

Looking away from her, he focused on the treeline and she watched as his shoulders slumped slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "The shadow is…" he paused for a moment, whether it was to collect himself or find the right words she was unsure—he appeared visibly shaken by the direction the conversation had gone, his face pale, his good hand clenching and unclenching almost reflexively. "Well, darling, _he's_ exactly _that._ He's truly a mere shadow of his former self."

Snapping her eyes from his hand to his face, she stared at him a moment, turning his statement over in her head. "What…what the hell does that mean?" she asked, tired of his complex and cryptic words. "What was _he_ before…was he something else…someone else?"

Hook shook his head at her, lifting his shoulders tiredly, the action speaking of defeat even as his eyes brimmed with slight defiance; and seeing his expression, she almost balked—startled by how drained and sick he looked.

"Not exactly darling."

"Well then _what _exactly?"

Swearing quietly, low enough so that she could barely hear it, Hook brought his hand to his forehead, squeezing his temples tightly before running it down his face and back up again, his movements fast and harsh and frenzied. "He's the product of magic. Extremely powerful and_ pure_ magic."

_Magic._

Of course…because _everything_ revolved around magic—they were talking about a flying and dangerous shadow for Chrissakes. They were in an enchanted land that housed pixies and mermaids and man-eating beasts….

_And fuck her life. _

Pushing herself from the ground, Emma scrambled to her feet, unsure what to make of his statement, attempting to push aside the remaining pricks of annoyance that lingered inside of her as she still struggled to grasp onto what he was telling her—a fight wasn't what she was looking for, she had to reel-in her temper. "Pure magic? As in good?"

Hook let out a bark of laughter at that and shot her a grin, the smile falling flat and missing his eyes. "No darling, pure as in undiluted. Most magical creatures are born with power in their blood, steal it from another being, or perhaps in very special circumstances, they learn it. The Shadow however, was created from pure unadulterated magic, both light and dark. Springing from something so untainted…well, it's a rather formidable creature to say the least."

Even now, it made no sense—talk of magic, good and evil, light and dark, pure and diluted—it was all still so hard to grasp; the realist in her, even after all she had seen and done, desperate to reject it. "_Tell me."_

Appearing resigned, he glanced up at the sky, his eyes drifting across the brightly lit heavens as he considered her demand. "Did you know at one time the pixies' magic was the most potent in all the realms?" He murmured it suddenly, softly—a hint of sadness woven into his tone, his expression sullen and far away.

He looked lost.

And it both surprised and bothered her to see him so vulnerable, his features conveying his reluctance to say more, his voice speaking of a near ancient pain.

She almost felt compelled to stop speaking, to stop pushing him, to stop hurting him.

_Almost._

"Pixies created the Shadow?" she prodded him gently, needing to know.

Tearing his gaze from the sky, Hook's eyes found hers and he nodded once, his face grim, his eyes suddenly fierce. And for a moment she glimpsed his true age in his young and handsome face, centuries of hurt and suffering staring back at her unflinchingly. "Unintentionally, yes."

"Why?"

Sadness, regret, reluctance all shimmered in his stare, nearly stealing her breath and urging her to reach out—her hand twitching lightly at her side with the desire to touch him. But just as fast as the impulse came, the sudden need to comfort him almost too great to deny, the heartbreaking emotions in his gaze were snuffed out quickly, his cool mask of composure returning fast. "A boy simply wanted to grow up."

Emma blinked at that, her eyes fluttering rapidly as his words registered in her head—a tale of _weeping lilies_ and a lost boy turned Forest King echoing softly in the back of her mind.

_Pan._

It made no sense…and yet…

Walking towards him slowly, unsure what her intentions were, why she needed to be closer to him, she fixed her eyes on his. Crinkling her brow, confusion still swimming inside of her, she considered his words and remembered his story. "Hook you've gotta give me more, I can't, I'm not sure…."

Words failing her, she stopped a couple of feet short of him and stared at him openly, noting the way the stars and the moons bathed him in a soft iridescent glow—his dark features appearing even darker, his light eyes even brighter. Lowering her head, she studied the dirt at her feet; the constant heaviness in her chest growing as her throat narrowed fractionally. Like back in the forest, when he had told her the story of the boy and the lilies, she felt as if she was on the verge of learning something—something terrible and wonderful, something hopeful and impossible; the revelation just beyond her reach. And closing her eyes for a moment, she took in a deep breath before raising her gaze back to his.

"What happened?" she whispered.

He took a step towards her; his feet shuffling in the dirt and bringing him closer to her, the action appearing almost unconscious...unintentional. "The pixies are temperamental, territorial and somewhat spiteful creatures, they wanted to keep the boy…their queen desiring his presence most of all. After all, he was _their_ eternally youthful mortal son…a prize to be cherished."

She swallowed and tried to resist the unmistakable pull that continued to draw her to him as his lilting words swept over her in his smooth and velvet voice. Watching him with slightly heavy vision, she eyed him cautiously as he continued to make his way towards her, her body tensing, her head suddenly pounding.

She wanted to meet him halfway.

She wanted to flee and never look back.

"And did they succeed…in keeping him? Did—did they turn him into the Shadow?" The mere thought brought a shudder to her spine as visions of the beloved and mischievous fairytale character destined to a life of darkness shot through her brain—the lost girl in her crying out and protesting adamantly.

A cruel smile dusted his lips, the briefest hint of remorse shadowing it before disappearing fast. "In a way yes."

"Hook—"

"There was a pixie...the one who loved the boy best...she tried to protect him from the wrath of the angry queen when the latter got wind of the boy's desires to leave. The pixie…" he paused suddenly, his words cutting off abruptly as his voice dropped and his lips pursed; and clenching his jaw, the muscles there twitching tightly, he seemingly searched for a way to continue. "The pixie that loved him," he started again, "she sacrificed herself, shielding him from the blast of magic that was intended to bind him to the land. The dark collided with the burst of light scarcely touched the boy before he was shot to another world entirely. " His next words dripped with threat and spoke of warning. "The pixies combined magic created something unseen in all of the realms."

_Pixies. A boy. Magic. A shadow._

It was crazy.

Ludicrous.

It all made sense…and still she was confused as hell.

Searching his gaze, her heart thumping rapidly against her chest, Emma felt the space between them close; the heat from his body warming her already hot skin as he stepped up to her slowly. "The magic…it made the Shadow?"

"Aye." It was a whisper, a revelation, a confession, all wrapped up in a voice laced with fear.

"Why are you so afraid of it…what does it want?" Her tone was soft, quiet and gentle; she could scarcely hear it over the loud and panicked voices that were shouting in her head, desperately trying to piece his story together.

"A body…a host."

"The boy?"

"_A boy_."

"I don't understand."

"That boy, the one the pixies wanted to keep is long gone…the Shadow created in his image…_Pan_…wants a new host now and he's ruthless for it...punishing anyone who gets in his way."

"Who does it want?"

He remained silent at that, his features pulling tight, hesitation, uncertainty, and apology sparking in his gaze. "Emma…."

He didn't need to say it.

She suddenly already knew.

And she hated him for it.

"Henry." She whispered, her heart dropping and her knees almost giving out on her as cold dread filled her gut. "Does he want Henry?"

"Every boy that comes to the island is a possible candidate…he's yet to find a proper match. Your boy is in danger, yes."

"Oh God."

_No, no, no, no. _

How much could a person take before they snapped? Really and truly snapped? Not bend, not crack, but snap—break and shatter into a million painful pieces. Her one bright spot, her saving grace, the person that actually mattered most in this whole fucked up world, the boy she'd given up only to get back, _her son,_ was now at risk of being torn away from her for good—the host to some demented magical shadow.

It was crushing.

It was too much.

_It wasn't fair. _

"You bastard!" Suddenly unable to control her emotions, seeing red and wanting to lash out, she pushed him hard, watching with little satisfaction as he stumbled backwards awkwardly before regaining his balance quick.

"Emma—"

"You knew! This entire time you knew! You knew that Henry was not only in danger because this place is a goddamned Tim Burton fun-house but because some _thing_ is after him. That it wants to—to what? Steal his soul? Take over his body?" Her voice had taken on a shrieking note, rising with each word she spoke as she glared at him hard.

He stepped forward once, then twice, closing the space between them again and clearly ignoring her when she narrowed her gaze even further. "Pan has been looking for centuries. Henry could be like all the others. Pan might not want him… he could merely…"

"Oh shut up. Just…stop. You and I both know my luck sucks too much for any of that to be true. It's Henry isn't it?"

"I don't bloody know!" His voice bellowed loudly, his sudden frustration dripping from his tone. "Perhaps! It's possible. I don't know what he wants, _who_ he wants. Only that he wants someone…and he's spent centuries looking for him."

Henry.

It was Henry.

_Oh God._

Feeling the anger all but deflate from her and in its place something heavy and hopeless, her shoulders dropped and her body sagged—a burning wetness pricked her eyes as her entire body went cold.

"Hook." She said his name softly, a weakness she despised seeping into her tone as unwanted images of some powerful being taking over Henry's body cruelly taunted her. "We have to find him…oh God we have to find him…I can't lose him again…I can't let him down. I have to fight."

"Emma…" he moved fast; grabbing her upper arms with his good hand and hook, he pulled her to him, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I swear to you, on everything that has ever mattered to me, we will find him."

She wanted to believe him, she _had_ to believe him.

When a lone tear escaped her, the burn of it trailing down her cheek both branding and humiliating, she closed her eyes tight, unable to face him as another tear and then another followed fast, her breathing becoming labored as she struggled to reel-in her overwhelming despair.

"Don't." his tone was hoarse, gruff and pleading.

And still unable to look at him she kept her eyes closed, knowing that if she opened them she'd collapse and shatter in his hold.

She was weak._  
_

Tired.

Helpless.

_Hopeless._

"Emma."

She felt the cool metal of his hook under her chin; the warmth of his good hand suddenly on her face, he cupped it gently, the tenderness of his touch nearly causing her to shudder. As the roughened pad of his thumb carefully brushed her tears away, a voice in her head broke through her slightly hysterical and ominous thoughts, shouting for her to toughen up, screaming at her to find her backbone as a hot blush swept across her cheeks.

Henry needed her.

Henry believed in her.

Slowly, surely, her eyes opened and met Hook's fierce and piercing gaze.

"We will find him…on my life…we will find him.." His stare gleamed with resolve, his voice was firm and determined and final.

_She trusted him._

Captured by the intensity of his stare, she leaned into the warmth and comfort of his touch, and turning her head into his palm, she inhaled his scent—it had been so long since she had allowed someone to soothe and reassure her. It felt nice, even with the everything that was weighing over her, threatening to pull her under and drowned her, it felt right. Drawing in another deep breath, the sound broken and shuddering, she nodded slowly. "How do you know the Shadow doesn't already have him?"

Brief hesitation wavering in his gaze, his eyes, still so blue and bright even in the unforgiving dark, narrowed tightly—tiny wrinkles appearing at the corners with the effort. "I would know."

"How?"

"Emma..."

A scream.

Desperate, anguished, and loud it shot through the night, the sound ripping them from each other as they both pulled apart quickly. Briefly, her body registered the loss of his warmth even as fear shot down her spine and terror rippled through her veins—running cold and freezing her insides. And as another shout disrupted the silence around them, this one more frantic and high-pitched, she grabbed the dagger from her belt and unsheathed it fast, her eyes widening as it was quickly followed by yet another quieter but no less distressed yell, the sound slicing through the stifling air.

"Hook?" she whispered; her eyes drifting to him, she tightened her grip on her weapon—adrenaline rushing through her fast as her body prepared for a fight.

His sword already drawn, his eyes scanning the trees, he spared her a quick glance before lifting his gaze upwards and searching the sky. "Get ready." He murmured softly, taking a step forward, his body moving in front of hers slightly.

And before she could question him, before she could ask what she was preparing for, before she had the chance to collect her bearings—half of her brain still stubbornly latching onto its fear for Henry's safety—the sound of branches snapping and muffled cries coming closer drew her attention to the woods once more. Lifting her knife, her stance defensive, her teeth gritted, she watched as the trees moved and the cries became louder and more urgent. Squinting, leaning forward ever so slightly, she flinched when suddenly, seemingly sprouting from the thick bushes, a body flew from the forest entrance.

"Help!" His voice wavered as he paused for a moment, glancing back in the direction he had come from. And then, looking back and catching sight of them, he mumbled something indecipherable before running towards them fast, his stride faltering as he limped and hobbled his way towards their camp. "Oh God! Help me please!"

As he drew closer, Emma noticed with a lurch of her heart that blood was flowing freely from a jagged cut on his head, the bruises that decorated his skin almost gruesome—ugly purples and faded blues sprouting across his face. And furrowing her brow, his features coming into focus under the light from the moons, her eyes grew big and round and a stifled and shocked gasp escaped her lips as she finally caught clear sight of him.

"Son of a bitch." she whispered the words softly, incredulously, as he stumbled and fell only a few feet away from them, his body heaving and trembling and broken. And disregarding Hook's protest, shaking off his attempt at pulling her back, she walked towards the collapsed figure, her pulse racing and her thoughts jumbled as she came across the shuddering and dirty heap.

"Help me." A voice moaned, his body shifting slightly, the tiny movement seeming to cause him unspeakable amounts of pain as he swore violently and shook uncontrollably before raising his eyes to meet hers. "Please."

And as his voice croaked up at her, desperate and pleading—the sound laced with the tiniest hint of awe as realization dawned in his gaze, Emma felt the beginnings of hope clash with sharp jabs of anger as she stared down into the bloodied and battered face of Greg Mendell.

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	9. Chapter 9

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_Anger._

Emma had felt the hot licks of nearly soul-consuming rage before.

After all, controlling her quick, sometimes violent, temper had been a skill she had carefully honed over the years.

As a mere teenager she'd often gotten into trouble for letting her heated emotions get the best of her. More than once she had laid out a jock who had had the bad sense to cop an unwanted and sloppy feel. A couple of times she had felt compelled to smack the smug and superior grins off a few pretty and ruthless cheerleaders who had seen the poor orphan as toxic and _less than_. She had even gotten removed from one of her former homes when her foster father had gotten a bit too handsy for her liking—a steak knife to his thigh and she'd shut down that situation effortlessly.

It wasn't until after Neal, after giving birth to Henry behind state penitentiary walls, after being released to a world that was crueler and harder than anything she could have ever imagined, that like most of her other emotions—trust, love, sorrow, despair, hope— she had locked away anger too, rarely allowing her full fury a chance to come to the surface.

Emotions got you nowhere—except maybe knocked up and sent to jail with no one to turn to.

Feeling things, _good or bad_, wasn't worth her time.

Emotions were risky.

It was a mantra she had repeated to herself almost daily, the thick shield in her emotional armor nearly impenetrable.

Until Henry.

Until her son had found her and had stubbornly begun to coax every feeling imaginable out of its roughened shell, throwing her for an undeniable loop in the process. And yet_,_ even after he had shown up and had blasted her entire world into a tailspin of crazy, strong, chaotic and somewhat unwanted emotions; she was no stranger in practicing self-control when necessary.

But staring down at the pleading and bloodied face of Greg Mendell, watching as he struggled to breathe, the wheezing and panting noises he made slowly filtering to her ears; she felt her tediously placed walls begin to waver further as unleashed and untamed rage began to course through her fast.

Her body heated from the inside out.

She saw red.

She felt…

_Bloodthirsty._

Moving quickly Emma squatted to the ground. Positioning herself over Greg's fallen body, she straddled him fast, caging him in with her thighs as her mind raced and her heart thumped wildly—confusion, hope, and fury all battling violently inside of her. Vaguely, past the screaming voices in her head, she heard the soft and telling rustle of boots moving towards her. And she noted with a misplaced sense of comfort when without a word Hook came up to stand off to the side of her, a silent show of support—his weapon still raised in defense, body still tense with suspicion.

"You son of a bitch." She whispered softly, her voice so low and laced with such unmistakable hate and vehemence that she was unsure if Greg had actually heard her.

The widening of his red and swollen eyes told her that he had.

Dropping her dagger onto the ground and reaching out fast, she grabbed the tattered and dirty collar of his shirt and pulled him forward harshly, bringing his face within mere inches of hers and disregarding the grunt and whimper of pain that left his dry and cracked lips.

"Where's Henry?" she asked him, her tone unwavering, her body trembling slightly as she stared into the hurt-filled eyes of the man who had taken her son from her.

"Please." He rasped, attempting to move from her grip, his hand weakly lifting only to limply fall back to his side again.

"Where the hell is my son?"

"I'm sick, I'm hurt. I need help."

"You think you're in pain now?" she whispered, a tight humorless smile stretching across her lips. "Keep avoiding my questions buddy and I'll make you wish you were still with whatever used your face as a punching bag."

With the threat she could feel the heady jolts of adrenaline spreading fast, her body tensing in anticipation as something sharp and white-hot sleepily began to roar to life inside of her. The heat spreading swiftly, suddenly she felt strong and invincible. And dimly she heard a voice in her head whispering that the feeling steadily growing within wasn't completely unfamiliar even as she noted that it felt unnatural...twisted…potent.

_Magic._

Dangerous, terrifying, potentially powerful magic.

Magic she didn't know how to use, how to control.

And stubbornly she ignored the realization, not wanting to think about it—she didn't have the time nor the patience to figure out what was going on inside her goddamned body, not when something else needed her attention.

"I don't have him."

The broken voice ripped her focus back to Greg, her eyebrows slashing upwards as she shot him a somewhat incredulous look. "I can see that." Roughing him up slightly, shaking his collar hard, she watched as pain slithered across his features, a yelp escaping his lips with her forceful movements—a darker part of her reveling in the sound "Where is he?"

"I don't know."

Rolling her eyes, and muttering a curse, Emma picked up her dropped dagger and before she could over think it, before she could attempt to calm her temper, she yanked him closer to her, placing the blade at his throat and nicking him lightly, the prick serving as an ominous warning.

"Okay! Okay. Th-they took him! Oh God they took him." He coughed once, and Emma saw with a sliver of surprise, a stream of blood spit out past his lips, dribbling down his quivering chin.

"Who?" She spat the question at him, her blade digging even further into his skin.

"Oh God she tried to stop them. God she tried...but they hurt her. An-and I tried to get to her. Oh God...oh God what if they killed her! Oh God what have I done…what have I done…" he sobbed, wet tears streaking down his dirty face and falling silently onto her clenched fist as she continued to grip his shirt tightly.

Vaguely, as she tried to make sense of his ramblings, she felt pangs of sympathy stir..but they were harshly pushed down, replaced by her anger and fear. "Who took him?" she hissed, her thoughts immediately drifting to Pan…the shadow…_Henry._

Coughing again, Greg's eyes looked up at her, glazed and unfocused, and she saw somewhere past the hurt and suffering was a hint of apology…something she blatantly chose to ignore. "Mermaids." He laughed at that, the sound empty and humorless. "Mermaids have him."

Mermaids.

It never fucking ended.

There was always something else, something more confusing and more unfamiliar waiting in the shadows.

_Mermaids?_

"Jesus Christ." She murmured softly, blinking at him rapidly as she tried to grasp onto what he had just said.

"We had stopped. There was this lagoon and we had just needed to rest for a few minutes. The kid was washing his face and they just grabbed him. Tamara, she tried to pull him back but they were strong and then she fell in…she just disappeared." He paused, and releasing a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes briefly before continuing. "And then there was blood. So much blood. Oh God..." He began sobbing once more, his cries eventually turning into coughs and his coughs turning into wheezes until he was left gasping in pain.

And even as he struggled to breathe, choking and winded, she refused to release him, her blade still firmly at his neck as she considered his broken revelation—her body tensing as his voice echoed in her ears.

_There was blood. _

_So much blood. _

"Who's blood was it?" she asked him softly, her words nearly quivering with fear, as she thought of Henry drowning, his lungs filling with water as the mermaids swam and cackled around him, clawing him and ripping him to bloodied shreds.

_No._

"Dammit Greg who's blood was it?"

He didn't answer her.

Not fast enough—his entire body convulsing as he continued to moan and pant in pain.

_Fear._

It was another emotion she had desperately tried to deny throughout the years, but with images of blood-filled water flashing in front of her dazed eyes and the phantom sounds of Henry's screams for help echoing in her ears, she allowed the nearly paralyzing feeling to take hold of her fast.

"Who's blood was it?" she asked again, her voice rising slightly with the question, her heart clenching painfully in her chest as her dagger dug into his skin, pricking him once again.

"I-I don't know." Greg rasped finally, the simple words seemingly taking its toll on him as his eyes rolled back for a moment, sickeningly showing only the whites before quickly refocusing once again. "Oh god it hurts...it feels like its eating me from the inside out. I can't...please I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen. I didn't know. Oh God I'm sorry. P-p-please he-help me."

_Mother-fucker._

"Goddamn you! Who's blood was it?!" She screamed the words this time, ignoring his frantic pleas, and desperate claims. And unable to stop herself, even when she heard a calmer more rational voice in her head trying to reason with her, she released Greg's shirt momentarily.

Blocking out the sight of Hook's quiet presence at her side, she wound back; flashes of red and silver light sparking rapidly behind her eyes, she let out an anguished yell and smacked the injured man hard in the face. The crack of her palm against his cheek rang loudly throughout the otherwise silent night, his gasping breath at the contact causing something to twist in her gut as her fingertips sparked hot with a purple tinged golden glow—casting the area around them in an iridescent light.

_She could hurt him further if she wanted to._

_He deserved it._

It would be so easy, just a thought, a mere vision, and she could cause him even more pain. After all, he had taken her son from her.

Henry could be dead because of him.

"Tell me now or I swear to God I will kill you! Who's blood was it?! Was it Henry's, did they hurt my son?" Her voice was high-pitched, shrill, and completely foreign.

And with her nearly shouted questions, the atmosphere shifted abruptly around them. Her head swam and her body tensed with pulsing hot, exotic, and alien energy. Light crackled and sizzled from her fingers, wrapping around the blade she held to his neck. A harsh and sudden wind picked up around them, flapping her hair wildly against her cheeks as all of her attention focused on the man beneath her—her hate and anger nearly consuming her.

"I don't know okay? Oh god I don't know. Henry disappeared and then Tamara fell in and then there was just blood...so much blood and then...and then I tried to get to them but the mermaids, they were everywhere, making these horrible sounds and then the flying shadow came and these kids were with it and they—" he stopped talking for a moment, gut-wrenching sobs mixing with rough coughs wracking his body. "They asked me about Henry…they were so angry when I said I didn't have him, they kept trying to get answers from me but I was so scared and I didn't want to lead them to Tamara. I kept thinking maybe she's still alive and—and…so I kept saying I didn't know and—and look at me! Look at me! They did this to me!" He cried desperately, his weeping form a sad and pathetic sight. "They did this to me! They would have killed me but something caught their attention and I ran…I just ran…Oh God I left Tamara…she could still be out there. She could still need me. Oh God what if she's drowned, what if they've killed her? Oh God, oh God help me…it hurts."

_Remorse, revulsion, regret._

Suddenly she couldn't breathe, it was all too much, everything he had said, everything she was feeling, everything that _could be_ happening beyond her reach, and just as she was about to back off, disgusted by the sight of him and shocked by her own callous actions…

He screamed.

The piercing sound shot through the darkness, echoing soundly, the cry fading away as a violent shudder ripped through his body causing him to twist beneath her wildly. Eyes widening, mouth opening slightly, she watched in shock as he turned and moaned, his body flailing in the dirt as he clawed at some seemingly unknown force.

"The hell…" she whispered, the sparks at her fingertips fading, the glow around them diminishing, she scrambled up off of him quickly, looking on in terror as he continued to grunt and gurgle and wriggle.

"Poison." _Finally_, softly, Hook spoke; his voice was low, reminding her of his presence—the sound reassuring over the jumbled noises coming from Greg's writhing body.

Eyes shooting towards him fast, a hint of embarrassment crept up on her as her stare met his in the desolate blackness that surrounded them. And with faint stirrings of surprise, she found that she wanted…craved…_needed_...the comfort and support of his steady gaze. But as she caught the dark and curious glint that shone in his blue depths, watching as his eyes flicked down to her hands, which only moments ago had been sparking with some dangerous and untamed energy, she frowned tightly, a gnawing pit growing in her stomach as her recent actions towards Greg—her harsh and careless words, the way she had ruthlessly hit him, the odd glow that had threatened to release from her fingers— replayed in her head.

"How—what…" she shook her heard trying to clear her mind of its unwanted thoughts, the foggy effects of her anger fading slightly.

"I'm assuming underneath the blood and dirt, we'd find a dagger gash. Pan's boys specialize in poison tipped weapons." Hook answered her carefully, his eyes drifting from her hands towards the sky with the statement. "He doesn't have much time."

_God._

So much death, loss, and destruction, she wasn't sure she could handle anymore, regardless of her feelings for the stupid bastard that lay on the ground, she wasn't sure she could take it.

"What about an antidote?"

Greg's moans grew louder, more pained and persistent, almost as if protesting the very idea.

"No."

Emma shook her head, the fading anger giving way to fear and threatening to give way to hopelessness as she tried to get a handle on the situation—her conscious and her warring and ever-changing emotions making her head feel dizzy and her body numb. "No? Just no?"

"Aye...just no."

"But I was poisoned…you _saved_ me. We have to try, he could be useful, he can't just, we can't just let him...isn't there a way…"

As her faltering words lingered hesitantly, Hook smiled, a slow, sad, and genuine smile—his eyes leaving the sky to find hers once again. "It was different with you sweetheart…I saw the thorns that got you…and…" glancing at Greg, watching as his heels dug into the ground; his coughing fits lasting longer, blood covering his chin as his pale lips pursed into a tight and thin line, Hook's shoulders dropped slightly, his expression suddenly darkening. And then, almost as soon as he had allowed himself the brief moment of vulnerability, he straightened rigidly; a sudden and abrupt cool mask of composure covering his face. "It's too late lass…I knew what your poison was, I knew what antidote would offset it and I knew you could _fight_ it, that you were strong enough to deal with the effects and the toll it would take on your body…he's too weak, he'd never survive it even if I had something to offer."

Emma shook her head slowly, her eyes burning as she glanced back down at Greg's thrashing form, a dull and heavy weight settling inside of her as her eyes adjusted and focused behind the sudden threat of tears. She felt as if she were being torn into two—only moments ago she'd experienced such blinding rage; she had wanted to do the bastard harm, and now…now she just felt sick, guilty, and defeated.

"So we leave him here to die?"

"No."

Hope suddenly sprang forward at the lowly spoken word, edging its way past her overwhelming dread. And grasping onto it, Emma's head snapped up fast. "What—what can we do?"

Hook's sigh was long and drawn out; he looked exhausted… beaten…distressed. "He's going to draw unwanted attention. His screams will grow louder, more shrill, less far apart. Any threat that lurks within hearing distance will come looking. He needs to be silenced." He gripped his sword tighter with the observation, his eyes once more flitting to the sky as he allowed his meaning a moment to register.

_He needs to be silenced._

And with his words echoing, the quiet apology laced within them, just as quickly as the hope had appeared, it vanquished fast, the dismay she was all too used to replacing it instantly. "What are you saying?" she whispered softly, even as grating realization sunk in.

"It would be a far worse fate to leave him here to draw out the beasts as he takes his last breath…" Gaze lifting up again, Hook shrugged once, before murmuring softly in a darkly lilting vice, "Or worst yet allow _Pan _to get to him_._"

No.

_No! No! No!_

She shook her head almost violently, everything inside of her standing on edge, screaming against what he was implying, what he was telling her without coming right out and saying it—after all, there was only one way to silence the already dying man.

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't. He's dying...it's too late…the pain wracking his body will quickly become unbearable, his screams will soon follow."

With his words, she brought a shaky hand to her lips, a soft puff of air whooshing out of her as she suddenly struggled to keep her breathing even. She felt sick...lost...completely unbalanced. Dimly images swam before her eyes, forcing her to recall a dark and cool cave—her body pressed up against Hook's as tormenting waves of hurt ripped through her veins, her own poison and antidote induced screams echoing loudly off the walls until quite suddenly they were cut off, silenced by the gag that had been placed at her mouth.

"No…_no_…we're not…" she swore quietly, her words breaking off on a hitching breath as emotions bombarded her fast—it was too goddamned much. "I'm not a murderer."

Hook's smile was thin and grim, stretching tight and nowhere near to reaching his eyes. And nodding once he made a move towards Greg—the latter's moans growing louder and threatening to break into shuddering and agonizing cries. "I know that darling." And saying nothing else, he made a move to pass her, stopping only when she reached out—her fingers grabbing his shirt and digging into the worn fabric as she held him in place.

"I can't let you do this Hook."

His smile grew wider, the overall effect making him appear sadder, _older,_ and sheathing his sword, he took his good hand and placed it over hers, holding it there for a moment, the rough callouses scraping her and the heat of his skin nearly burning her before he drew her away from him gently. "I'm not asking for your permission Emma." Moving past her, he took a step towards Greg, stopping only when she drew her weapon again, pointing it at his back and leveling it at him with surprisingly steady hands.

"Stop."

At her command, he cocked his head towards her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned around to fully face her, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes flashed hot and angry. "Then what would you suggest my dear?" He stepped towards her once, twice, closing the space between them and forcing her to take a step back as he seemingly held no regard for the blade in her hand. "That man is dying! Do you understand? We can't save him. There isn't a bloody thing we can do. And every moment we leave him here, every second we stay out in the open we risk Pan and his boys finding us."

"Just..." she shook her head fast, squeezing her eyes shut tight before opening them again, her vision wavering slightly as his blurry shape came into focus. "Dammit just let me think!"

"We don't have time." His voice was cool, calm, and devoid of all emotion.

_Or course they didn't._

"Jesus Christ, we are not going to just kill him." She murmured, her blade glinting menacingly in the moonlight, her feet shuffling closer to him as she ground out the assertion between gritted teeth.

"He has no chance! Do you understand? Not a sodding chance! He needs to be quieted and his body hidden! We'll be doing him a favor. He may be a bloody bastard but not even someone like him deserves the hand he's been dealt."

"I said no!"

"So what darling? You'll kill me...try to run me through with your blade to save the dying man who took your son?" He stepped towards her again, his body rigid and stiff as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. And watching as his fingers twitched against it slightly, she swallowed over the sudden and rising lump in her throat, curious if this is what it had finally come to.

A showdown on the outskirts of the forest with a shadow lingering nearby.

"You're a fighter kitten but we both know I could have you unarmed in mere seconds."

"Shut-up."

Her voice was low, the soft demand a warning, a promise, a threat.

"Or perhaps I'll just get you really wound up hmmm_ princess?_...give you a chance to use your new sparkly trick on me." He spat the words out suddenly, heatedly, _furiously—_his eyes going wide and bright flashed accusingly to her hands. "It's only a matter of time I suppose, before I feel your wrath as well." He shook his head, sneering at her near violently. "I have to wonder though, if you were ever going to tell me...let me in on your little secret." His stare lingering pointedly, a look of disgust laced with something nearly unreadable crossed his features slowly, forcing her to consider the way the air had moved and her fingers had sparked_—_glowing golden, threatening and dangerous_—_as she had lost her temper.

Realization dawned on her slowly, sickeningly, depressingly.

_He feared her._

Her hands shook slightly as he stared at her hard; his features twisted into an expression of such raw distaste that it took her aback, causing something inside of her to protest adamantly—screaming and yelling against the scorn and mockery that he was throwing her way.

_It wasn't right._

_It wasn't fair._

"No..._you_ don't get to look at me like that." her voice was soft and hushed. And her heart clenched painfully as he continued to glower at her with unmasked contempt; the need to explain herself—what had happened with her anger, what exactly the odd and burning energy was, and now her abrupt desire to save Greg—roaring hot within her. "I don't know what that was...how that happened...I...just..." She broke off, the sound that escaped her mouth sounding frighteningly close to a sob. "Just..._no_ you don't get to look at me like that."

He laughed at that, cruel and humorless, and hearing it she wanted to drop to her knees and beg him to _stop_...hating the sound, unable to fully grasp that it was directed_ at her. _

She needed him.

Now more than ever, with word of Henry possibly alive but still in danger, she needed him.

She couldn't survive without him.

She couldn't do this on her own.

_She needed him._

"Please." She whispered it softly and for a moment it hung heavily between them, lingering unanswered.

Her gaze drifting to the ground, she blinked back the dampness that had collected at the corners of her eyes, pinpricks of panic skittering across her skin as silenced enveloped them. She couldn't let him become the murderous and villainous pirate she loathed and despised...she wasn't sure she'd be able to take it if he turned on her, if he left and abandoned her too.

_Not him._

And as the quiet stretched on, the air nearly sparking with tension and unspoken emotions, she wondered if he had even heard her murmured plea, wondered if he even cared that she was one the verge of a desperate breakdown_—_curious if he realized how much she had come to rely on him. Until finally, thankfully, she heard his soft and telling sigh, followed by the shuffling of dirt as he drew even closer.

"Emma. Look at me."

_He sounded like himself again._

Closing her eyes, gathering her wits, and channeling her strength, she raised her watery gaze to his, watching as his eyes flickered to Greg's fallen body before glancing back at her. "They're looking for him Emma. They're probably waiting for his screams...I stand by what I said before, let me finish it so that we can have a chance." He tone was softer, gentler, the loathing contempt from only a few seconds ago gone as he refocused on the dying and writhing body on the ground.

And as the stress between them lessened fractionally, his words imploring her softly, somewhere in the distance she heard a crow—whether it was human or animal, she wasn't sure, but based off the way Hook's eyes shot back upwards to search the starry lit heavens she was betting on the former. And a slinking feeling of cold dread danced down her spine at the thought.

"Let me do this lass."

"I-I can't…" she bit her lip, her throat tightening and her stomach dropping, Greg's cries growing closer together and lifting louder to the dark and ominous sky. "Oh god I can't do it." she whispered again, the vengeful, violent, and magical creature that had threatened to take over her only moments ago completely gone and in its place something desperate and powerless.

An odd look crossing his features, Hook stared at her a moment, understanding suddenly flashing in his eyes as what was left of his anger seemingly gave way to concern. And stepping forward once again, the heat of his body warming her suddenly chilled skin, he raised his hand to her hair, brushing the tangled strands behind her shoulder, his touch lingering for a moment before he gave her a small, self-deprecating smirk. "Of course you can't sweetheart...that's why I'm not asking you to. Now go gather our things and don't look back, I'll only be a moment."

"Hook—"

"Think about your son Emma. We have valuable information about Henry's whereabouts…we know the mermaids have him now." He paused for a moment at that, his brow creasing as he seemingly considered his words—a look of irritation crossing his face briefly before his cool and familiar mask of indifference replaced it fast. "And while the sirens are fickle things...they'll not hurt your boy if they believe him to be valuable. They've a knack for gathering important and vital treasures. But they can be vain and greedy creatures and are not above making deals if the price is right. If that's the case we could be a step ahead of Pan."

Shifting towards her, his bright stare cutting through the darkness and suddenly finding hers, seeking it anxiously as he tried to get his point across, he nodded once, clear certainty lifting his features. "We must leave and we must leave now. This man is_ dying_…every moment you stand here preventing me from going to him and finishing the sodding job, his pain and misery increases…and while it might be exactly what the git deserves, it puts us and possibly your son in even more danger while drawing out his torment further. He needs relief and then his body needs to be hidden as best as possible. I'm not asking you to do it yourself darling but don't stand in my way."

_Oh God._

He was right.

But it was wrong, so very, horribly, and unfairly wrong.

The lines of good and evil, savior and executioner were so terribly blurred.

Without saying another word, his eyes downcast and his body stiff, Hook brushed by her and walked over to Greg slowly—the conversation was clearly over. She was too weak to fight him further...and he knew it. Watching him, she could feel bile rising to her throat as, clenching his good hand tightly at his side, he fluidly knelt down beside him—a dark and deadly creature ready to fulfill his somber duty.

He looked like the angel of death.

_Or the devil himself._

Casting a look over his shoulder suddenly, his icy blue eyes finding hers, he held her stare for a moment, a variety of emotions—self-loathing, regret, and remorse—flashing across his features before quickly looking back at Greg's thrashing and moaning form below him.

_Run!_

_Stop._

_Scream._

_No._

Turning, her head swimming and her vision spotting in front of her, Emma made her way over to their camp, her limbs heavy and her breathing labored as she forced herself not to look back. There was nothing they could do. This was their only choice. _Henry._ She had to think about Henry. And as Greg's pained screams shot through the air, the poison tearing through his body, she almost turned around, ready to beg Hook not to do it, intent on pleading pointlessly for the man's already fading life. But the dead silence that quickly followed his ringing cries had her closing her eyes shut tight, a soft and shuddering gasp escaping her trembling lips as weighted awareness sunk in.

_It was done._

A hot and silent tear escaping her eyes and rolling slowly down her suddenly feverish cheek as a heavy quiet settled in the air, she looked over her shoulder, watching as Hook dragged the now limp and lifeless body to the brush and trees, intent on hiding it in the overabundant growth.

Bending down slowly, clenching her teeth and stiffening her shoulders, she quickly gathered their things, shoving what little they had into the few satchels and bags they carried while also trying to grasp onto what little sanity she believed she had left.

_Really, how much could one person take?_

Since being separted from the group, since Neverland, since Storybrooke, since her whole goddamned life really—it was a question she continually asked herself, praying, hoping, for the day she'd get her answer.

She was so tired.

And the more she tried to fight, the more she struggled to push her resolve back into place, the more she attempted to believe that soon _something_ would give; the more the universe fought back, throwing obstacle after obstacle in her face—one twisted hurdle after another repeatedly shooting up, preventing her from achieving her ultimate goal.

Peace. Serenity. Happiness.

_Redemption?_

Turning wearily, sighing softly, her watery and stinging eyes immediately met Hook's drained and exhausted ones as he made his way back to her. And seeing the dark nearly unfamiliar look that lurked there, she felt her lips start to tremble as her cold and clammy body began to shake slightly, the tremors only increasing as he reached out a hand to her, silently offering to carry some of their supplies, his gaze averting hers completely.

"Are we just—?" She stopped a moment to clear her throat, the lump that had grown there refusing to go away as the realization that only a few feet away lay Greg's lifeless body—cruelly discarded and dumped behind some trees—sunk in. "Are we just going to leave him there?" she asked softly, her voice sounding dull and flat in her buzzing ears, dimly she felt her heart hardening, her walls slowly being pushed back into place—the Emma Swan of old, the Emma Swan who was used darkness and despair fighting to make her way back, intent on pushing away anything and anyone who got in her way.

"Aye he's hidden as well as time will allow…Pan's boys will be looking for him soon if they aren't already...probably will search near the water first…we'll stick to the tree's shadows tonight, keep your weapon on hand."

Nodding, feeling numb and empty, she closed her eyes, blowing out a soft and hitching breath as she took a moment to gather her strength.

Henry wasn't with Pan.

And_ that _was what would drive her forward.

Stiffening her spine, she nodded once, before raising her chin and wordlessly following Hook as he turned from her, unsheathed his sword and headed into the trees. And as the black of the night embraced them and they moved away from their brief and peaceful sanctuary, she attempted to push down the nausea that was quickly rising from the pit of her stomach and shooting up to her pulsing throat—the sickening waves rippling over her tauntingly. Instead she tried in earnest to concentrate on the sounds of the trickling spring fading behind them, as the trees became denser and the air grew thicker.

But it was hard...too hard.

Her efforts lasted only a few agonizing minutes—the sound of Greg's desperate cries, the images of his battered body, his words of Henry, the dark feeling of power that had rushed through her, and finally, _finally_ Hook's look of exhausted resolve as he played the compassionate assassin ran through her body and flashed before her glazed eyes, paralyzing her heavy limbs.

She didn't say a word when she stopped suddenly, unable to hold back any longer. Doubling over, her mouth watering and her body shaking, she allowed herself a moment to be sick—her violent gagging and brutal heaving muffled as she attempted to stifle the noise and hurry up and be done with it. As she choked and retched up the contents of her stomach, the hot flush on her cheeks and the stinging tears that streaked down her face humiliated her even further, serving as another reminder that her dignity was lost…thrown away to the harsh and unforgiving land.

And with a broken curse and an anguished sob, dimly she registered the feel of cool metal on the back of her neck, and the gentle touch of fingers brushing her hair back as she bent over again and let the unyielding sickness consume her.

* * *

**Heavy stuff yo.**

**I know some of you are anxious for the romance aspect to kick up a notch and I keep promising it's coming but seriously trust me _it is_...I just kinda keep pushing it back due to the need to elaborate on some scenes and whatnot.**

**But it's coming...so is some _LIGHTER_ stuff.  
**

**Whew.**

**Review please?!**


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